7808- 


1 1  L  W  YO  R  K  : 


GOLDEN    THOUGHTS 


MOTHEE,     HOME 


AND 


HEAVEN. 

FKOM 

POETIC    AND    PROSE    LITERATURE 

OF 

ALL     AGES     AND     ALL     LANDS. 
\\ITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

BY    REV.    THEO.    L.    CUYLER,    D.D. 


'  If  from  our  side  the  first  has  fled, 

And  Home  be  but  a  name, 
Let's  strive  the  narrow  path  to  tread, 
That  we  the  last  may  gain  ! " 

Page  29. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


NEW-YORK : 
E.     B.     TREAT,     757    BROADWAY. 

R.    C.    TREAT,    CHICAGO.  W.    H.    THOMPSON    &    CO.,    BOSTON. 

N.  D.  THOMPSON  &  CO.,  ST.  LOUIS.         SOUTHERN  PUBLISHING  CO.,  NEW  ORLEANS. 

N.    G.    HAMILTON,    CLEVELAND,    O. 


K  B.  TREAT, 
COPYRIGHT, 


R.  E.  M.,  Great  Kills,  N.  Y.,  one 
of  the  oldtimers  in  the  book-agent 
busniess,  says  "  'Mother,  Home  and 
Heaven'  was  the  work  of  T.  DeWitt 
Talmadge,  rather  slushy  but  in  1890 
they  were  always  good.  'Ridpath's 
History  of  the  United  States'  you 
had  to  know  from  kiver  to  kiver 
to  answer  all  sorts  of  questions.  For 
the  local  school  boards,  Lossing's 
'History  of  the  American  Revolu- 
tion.' The  country  agents  of  that 
day  and  generation  were  made  of 
good  stuff.  They  were  many  of  them 
well  educated,  ministers,  lawyers, 
always  had  a  good  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  Yes,  there  was  a 
good  living  in  the  art  of  selling 
books — and  there  is  still,  both  in 
city  and  country." 


REV.     THEODORE     L.     CUYLER. 


THE  compiler  of  this  volume  has  rendered  a  most  valuable  ser- 
vice by  collecting  into  one  sheaf  these  golden  gleanings.  In  order 
to  give  his  work  the  greatest  richness  and  variety  he  has  laid  under 
contribution  more  than  three  hundred  widely-known  authors  on 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  In  the  main,  his  selections  seem  to  have 
been  made  with  excellent  taste ;  the  ruling  motive  being  to  choose 
these  things  which  would  be  the  most  practical  and  the  most  profita- 
ble. Many  of  them  are  already  familiar  to  us  all — but  that  very 
fact  proves  their  value.  There  are  other  readers  coming  on  the 
stage  of  life  who  need  to  know  these  "  household  words  "  and  one 
object  of  this  volume  is  to  carry  these  coined  thoughts  of  standard 
value  into  a  wide  and  permanent  circulation. 

My  friend  who  orginated  and  compiled  this  work  has  chosen 
three  grand  themes.  They  blend  together  beautifully,  and  interlock 
each  other  as  light,  heat  and  electricity  are  interlocked  in  a  sun-beam. 
The  Mother  is  the  fountain-head  of  the  Home.  The  home  is  the  foun- 
tain head  of  society  and  of  the  Church  of  Christ.  And  no  influences 
in  the  universe  contribute  so  much  toward  guiding  immortal  souls 
Heavenward  as  the  Home  and  the  Mother. 

If  I  were  asked  to  name  any  one  principle  that  seems  to  have  an 
almost  universal  application,  it  would  be  this  one — show  me  the 
mother  and  I  will  show  you  the  man !  Next  to  the  sovereign  grace 
of  God,  the  influence  of  a  mother's  teachings  and  example  is  the 
most  eifective  in  moulding  character  and  shaping  destiny.  Intellec- 

3 


INTRODUCTION. 

tual  power  even  descends  most  commonly  on  the  maternal  side. 
Nearly  all  the  most  remarkable  men  have  had  mothers  of  more  than 
ordinary  mental  calibre.  Great  men  often  have  weak  children ; 
great  women  seldom  have. 

But  it  is  in  the  direction  of  moral  training  and  the  development 
of  character  that  the  mother  is  most  powerfully  felt.  What  a  faith- 
ful suggestion  lies  hid  in  that  brief  line  from  Holy  Writ — "  his  rnotnei 
made  him  a  little  coat !  "  The  woman  who  wove  that  little  tunic 
was  Hannah.  The  lad  who  wore  it  was  Samuel,  who  grew  from  a 
beautiful  boyhood  into  the  holy  prophet  and  the  upright  ruler.  No 
doubt  that  it  was  a  modest  and  a  comely  garment  which  the  Jewish 
matron  made  ;  for  she  was  a  woman  of  too  much  piety  and  good  sense 
to  treat  her  consecrated  child  as  if  he  were  a  plaything  or  a  doll. 

But  that  "little  coat"  has  a  figurative  application  to  every 
mother 's  high  calling.  For  she  not  only  provides  her  child  from 
infancy's  first  moments  with  clothing  for  the  body,  but  moral 
"  habits "  of  character  and  conduct.  The  mother,  more  than  any 
one  else,  helps  to  clothe  the  immortal  soul  in  garments  of  light  and 
loveliness,  or  else  in  garments  of  sin  and  sorrow  and  shame.  She 
makes  "  little  coats  "  which  no  moth  can  consume,  which  never  wear 
out,  and  which  are  worn  by  her  offspring  long  after  she  has 
mouldered  into  dust.  She  weaves  her  child's  habits  of  thought  and 
conduct;  and  does  it  too,  as  clothes  are  made,  stitch  by  stitch.  She 
does  this  not  only  by  direct  deliberate  teachings,  but  by  little  words 
and  acts,  and  by  silent  unconscious  influence.  Hannah's  daily  life 
helped  to  weave  Samuel's  noble  character.  The  mother  made  the  man. 

What  a  debt  of  gratitude  the  world  owes  to  godly-minded 
Monica!  She  trained  up  Augustine  to  be  the  champion-defender 
of  the  gospel  in  a  day  of  dark  apostasies.  But  for  good,  faithful 
Susannah  Wesley,  the  world  might  never  have  been  enriched  with 
John  and  Charles,  the  twain  founders  of  Methodism.  Bichard 
Cecil  says  that  in  his  early  manhood  he  tried  hard  to  be  an  infidel. 
But  he  never  could  get  over  the  unanswerable  argument  of  his  own 
mother's  godly  life  and  influence.  They  were  too  much  for  him : 
they  conquered  him  for  Christ.  On  the  other  hand,  how  many 
lives  have  been  disfigured  by  the  wretched  "botch-work"  or  the 

4 


INTRODUCTION. 

deformities  of  such  uiind-garmeutb  as  weak  or  wicked  mothers  have 
•vroven  for  their  children.  The  brilliant  Byron  might  have  been  a 
very  different  man  if  he  had  had  a  different  mother,  and  a  wiser 
early  training.  Children  seldom  rise  higher  than  the  fountain-head 
of  the  mother's  character.  Occasional  exceptions  do  not  shake  the 
solid  certainty  of  this  rule.  Show  me  the  mother  and  I  will  show 
you  the  man — is  a  veracious  maxim  after  all.  There  are  tens  of 
thousands  of  others  who  can  testify, — with  the  author  of  this  Intro- 
duction,— that  a  faithful  mother's  prayers  and  teachings  were  worth 
more  to  them  than  the  fortunes  of  a  score  of  Girards  or  Vanderbilts. 
Even  the  diadem  which  Victoria  wears  as  Queen  of  Great  Britian 
and  Empress  of  India  shines  not  with  such  enviable  lustre  as  that 
higher  crown  of  the  pure  wife  and  exemplary  mother. 

While  the  relation  is  so  vitally  important  in  shaping  lives  and 
determining  human  destinies,  everything  which  helps  to  instruct 
and  inspire  mothers  for  their  high  calling  is  of  great  moment.  This 
is  one  purpose  for  which  this  volume  was  complied.  Not  for  the 
amusement  of  a  listless  hour,  but  for  quickening,  reproof,  instruction 
and  encouragement.  Amid  her  routine  of  home  cares,  a  busy 
mother  may  sometimes  take  up  this  book,  and  open  to  a  page  which 
shall  be  to  her  a  word  in  season — an  "  apple  of  gold  in  a  basket  of 
silver."  A  single  sentence  may  furnish  her  food  for  thought.  A 
brief  hint  may  give  her  most  valuable  assistance  in  the  discharge  of 
her  sacred  duties.  If  she  is  under  the  shadow  of  a  dark  sorrow, 
with  an  empty  cradle  in  her  house  or  the  playthings  of  a  lost  darling 
carefully  treasured  in  her  drawer,  she  may  open  these  pages,  and 
find  some  precious  words  of  consolation.  There  is  hardly  a  house  in 
which,  at  some  time  or  other,  there  has  not  "  been  one  dead."  No 
touch  makes  all  of  us  kin  like  the  touch  of  bereavement.  No  writ- 
ings have  such  perennial  interest  as  those  which  treat  of  our  home 
joys  and  sorrows,  and  which  are  inspired  by  the  cradle,  the  fireside, 
the  ring  of  wedlock,  the  family  record,  or  the  casket  which  holds 
our  beloved  dead. 

This  volume  was  prepared  for  home-use  and  home-reading.  It 
treats  not  only  of  her  who  is  the  queen  of  the  household,  but  of  the 
rules  by  which  home  may  be  governed.  If  the  mother  is  the  foun- 

5 


INTRODUCTION. 

tain-head  of  the  household,  it  is  equally  true  that  the  household  i* 
the  fountain-head  of  society.  Both  the  commonwealth  and  the 
church  grow  out  of  the  family.  They  both  take  their  character  from 
the  family.  The  real  seed-corn  whence  our  republic  sprang  was  the 
Christian  households,  which  stepped  forth  from  the  cabin  of  the 
"  Mayflower,"  or  which  set  up  the  family-altar  of  the  Hollander  and 
the  Huguenot  on  Manhattan  Island  or  in  the  sunny  South.  All  our 
best  characters,  best  legislation,  best  institutions,  and  best  church-life 
were  cradled  in  those  early  homes.  They  were  the  tap-root  of  the 
republic,  and  of  the  American  churches. 

For  one,  I  care  but  little  for  the  government  which  presides  ai 
Washington  in  comparison  with  the  government  which  rules  the 
eight  or  ten  millions  of  American  homes.  No  administration  can 
seriously  harm  us  if  our  home-life  is  pure,  frugal,  and  godly.  No 
statesmanship  or  legislation  can  save  us,  if  once  our  homes  become 
the  abodes  of  ignorance  or  the  nestling-places  of  profligacy.  The 
home  rules  the  nation.  If  the  home  is  demoralized  it  will  ruin  it. 

There  are  several  essentials  to  a  good  home.  Wealth  is  not  one 
of  those  essentials,  for  in  many  an  abode  of  honest  poverty  content- 
ment dwells.  Out  of  such  lowly  cottages  and  cabins  have  sprung 
our  greatest,  noblest  men  and  women.  The  little  clapboarded  farm 
houses  of  New  England  have  been  the  nurseries  of  our  greatest 
divines,  most  useful  philanthropists  and  devoted  missionaries.  The 
riches  of  those  humble  dwellings  were  industrious  hands  and  praying 
hearts.  God's  Word  was  the  light  of  the  homestead.  The  Bible, 
the  spinning-wheel,  and  the  family  altar  stood  side  by  side.  The 
growing  refinements  of  later  years  have  introduced  into  many  rural 
habitations  the  piano,  the  pictures,  and  the  pile  of  books.  But  let 
our  people  see  to  it  that  the  increase  of  culture,  money  and  refine- 
ment is  not  attended  with  any  decrease  of  homespun  frugality,  do- 
mestic purity,  and  the  fear  of  God. 

A  truly  good  home  is  not  only  one  in  which  God  reigns,  but  it 
must  be  an  attractive  spot.  Even  all  the  conscientious  Christian  par- 
ents do  not  seem  to  find  this  out.  The  result  is  that  the  theater,  the 
billiard-saloon,  the  club,  the  convivial  party  manage  to  "  out-bid  " 
the  home,  and  to  draw  away  the  sons  and  the  daughters.  It  is  too  often 

6 


INTRODUCTION. 

the  fault  of  his  parents,  that  a  sprightly  boy  prefers  pome  other  even- 
ing resort  to  the  stupid  or  disagreeable  place  iu  which  ho  eats  and 
sleeps.  If  his  home  were  made  more  attractive  he  would  not  peek 
the  haunts  of  danger  and  depravity.  And  one  of  the  surest  methodb 
of  keeping  a  husband  out  of  a  dramshop,  or  a  son  out  of  the  haunts  of 
sin,  is  the  "  expulsive  power  of  a  new  affection  "  for  their  home. 
Everything  that  attracts  our  children  to  their  homes  is  very  apt  to 
be,  in -the  end,  an  attraction  towards  Heaven. 

As  a  citizen  of  Brooklyn,  I  am  proud  of  the  fact  that  in  our 
chief  public  park  there  stands  a  monument  to  the  author  of  "  Home, 
sweet  Home."  Those  immortal  lines  have  made  delicious  music  by 
many  an  humble  fireside.  They  have  inspired  encouragement  under 
many  a  lowly  roof.  But  John  Howard  Payne  struck  a  deeper  truth 
than  he  may  have  intended  when  he  wrote,  "there  is  no  place  like 
home"  This  applies  to  something  more  enduring  than  the  heart's 
attachment  to  the  spot  which  sheltered  our  childhood.  For  all  our 
after  lives,  and  our  eternal  destinies — for  shaping  the  character, 
forming  the  habits,  determining  the  choice  for  good  or  evil,  and  fr.r 
tile  salvation  or  ruin  of  the  soul  "there  is  no  place  like  home,'' 
Nothing  is  so  dangerous  and  damning  as  a  bad  home.  Nothing  ifc 
so  effective  in  fitting  us  for  usefulness  here  and  for  heaven  here- 
after as  a  pure,  happy  Christ-lighted  home ; — for  like  heaven  "  the 
LAMB  is  the  light  thereof." 

It  is  because  this  volume  contains  so  many  valuable  truths  for 
fireside  reading  ;  in  short,  because  it  is  such  an  excellent  Ixnne  book, 
that  I  have  been  drawn  to  it  and  have  written  these  words  of  honest 
commendation.  When  one  has  not  time  enough  to  read  an  extended 
treatise,  he  may  take  up  this  book  and  find  some  savory  morsel  of 
wisdom — some  sweet  touch  of  poetry — some  timely  hint  for  the 
hour,  or  some  rich  cluster  of  truths  that  shall  be  like  a  bunch  of 
grapes  from  the  King's  own  garden.  Into  the  cleanly  pages  of  my 
friend's  volume  "  nothing  entereth  which  defileth."  And  there  is 
many  a  precious  truth  here  which — with  God's  bleaaing — may  make 
one  "  wise  unto  salvation." 

7 


PAGE 

'  AI.IKII  t.  Rev.  Dr.  John  S.  C 36:* 

Ackers,  Elizabeth 378 

Addison,  Joseph 215 

Aldrich,  James 290 

Alexander,  J.  Addison 318 

Alexander,  Rev.  Dr.  James  W...  344 

Bacon,  Lord 261 

Barbauld,  Anna  Letitia 321 

Barker,  David 214 

v  Barr,  Sirs.  Amelia  E 219 

Barton,  Bernard 853 

Baxter,  Richard 357 

'  Beecher,  Henry  Ward 73,  203,  298 

Birkins,  Rev.  H.  II 87 

Blair 222 

Blanchard,  Laman 24 

Bonar,  Horatius 409 

Booth,  Rev.  B.  F 116 

Bowring,  John 334 

Brainard,  Mary  G 308 

"  Brooks,  Rev.  Phillips 205 

Browning,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  B 828 

Bryant,  William  C 323 

Burchard,  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  D 106 

Burr,  Mrs 179 

Bushnell,  Rev.  Dr.  Horace 65 

Byron,  Lord 260,  821 

Campbell,  Thomas.    .   43 

Carlyle,  Thomas 246 

Gary,  Phoebe 264 


FA«.R 

Cassanovia,  E.  L ....     30 

Cato ...  201 

Chaffee,  Ada  A 268 

Chesterfield,  Lord 190,  331 

Cicero 205 

Clarendon,  Lord 205 

Clay,  Henry 269 

Colfax,  Schuyler 128 

Collyer,  Rev.  Dr.  Robert 111 

Cook,  Rev.  Joseph 229 

Cook,  Eliza 74 

Colton,  George  H 243 

Cowper,  William 83,  210,  218 

Cromwell,  Oliver 331 

Crosby,  Fanny  J 27,  103,  343 

Crosby,  Rev.  Dr.  Howard 349 

Cummings,  Rev.  Dr.  John 361 

Cuyler,  Rev.  Dr.  Theo.  L.  .5,  270, 

306,  360,  881 

Dane,  H.  C 121 

Deems,  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  F 402 

Dickens,  Charles 136,  245 

Downing,  Rev.  Dr 112 

Dryden,  John 193 

Dwight,  Rev.  Dr.  Timothy    243 

Faber,  Rev.  Dr.  F.  W...246,  379,  397 

Farman,  Ella 85 

Fields,  James  T 182 

Franklin,  Benjamin 235 

Fuller..  .  241 


LIST    OF    AUTHORS. 


PAGE 

Gladstone,  \V.  E 263 

Goethe 328 

Goldsmith,  Oliver 114,  190,  197 

Gough,  John  B 261 

Guthrie,  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas..  ..346,  346 
Guyon,  Madame 324 

Hale,  Mrs.  Sarah  J 77 

Hall,  Rev.  Dr.  John 297 

Hamilton,  Rev.  Dr 132 

Hamilton,  R.  W 405 

Harris,  Rev.  J.  L 354 

Haven,  Bishop  Gilbert 94 

Helps,  Sir  Arthur 197 

Hemans,  Mrs.  Felicia  D 309 

Henderson,  Rev.  M.  C 96 

Henry,  Rev.  Dr.  Matthew 195,  375 

Herschel,  Sir  John 235 

Hodge,  Rev.  Dr.  A.  A 85,  242 

Holland,  J.  G 233 

Holm,  Saxe 34 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell..  100,  128,  322 

Hood,  Thomas 58,  170,  412 

Hopkins,  Jane  Ellis 149 

Home,  Bishop 340 

Houghton,  Mary  H 281 

Humboldt 242 

Hunt,  Leigh 181 

Hunter,  William 399 

Huntington,  C 366 

Huntington,  Bishop  P.  D 228 

Janes,  Bishop  E.  8 230 

Jay,  Rev.  William 323 

Jocelyn,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  H 393 

Johnson,  Dr 185 


PAOB 
Lathrop,  Mary  F 166 

Lincoln,  Abraham 24 

Longfellow,  Henry  W..  ..138,  261,  291 

Lonsdale,  Bishop  of 340 

Lover,  S 28 

Lowell,  James  Russell 301 

Lytton,  Bulwer 369 

Macaulay,  Lord 80 

MacDonald,  George 213 

Mackay,  Charles 347 

Mann,  Horace 162,  191 

March,  Rev.  Dr.  Daniel.  .232,  346,  411 

Marsh,  Miss 362 

Marzials,  Frank  T 160 

Mason,  John 822 

Matthews,  Rev.  Dr.  J.  M 36 

McLeod,  Mrs.  Georgie  A.  H 302 

Millman,  Dean 367 

Mills,  Mrs.  Elizabeth 386 

Milton,  John 313,  328 

Mitchell,  John  K 290 

Montgomery,  James.. 53,  104,  335,  392 

Moody,  D.  L 119,  206 

Moore,  Thomas 391,  398 

More,  Hannah 344 

Morris,  George  P 79,  93 

Moultrie,  John 297 

Muckle,  Mary  J 29 

Mulock,  Miss 331 

Murray,  Rev.  W.  H.  H 159,  166 

Newton,  John 856 

Northrop,  Prof.  B.  G 362 

Orrery,  Earl  of 100 


Keble,  John 126,  243,  407         Parnell,  Thomas  '. 280 


Ken,  Bishop  Thomas 352 

King,  Henry 820 

Lamb,  Charles 867 

Lange,  Rev.  Dr.  Ernst 407 

Lason,  A.  A 216 


Paxton,  Rev.  Dr.  W.  M 203 

Payne,  John  Howard 333 

Pearce,  William 351 

Perm,  William 858 

Penrose,  Richard 24!) 

Perry,  Mrs.  S.  T 292 


LIST    OF    AUTHORS. 


PAGE 

flerpont,  John 304 

Pliny 223 

Planche,  .1.  R 315 

Pollock,  Robert 280 

Pope,  Alexander 71,  200,  210 

Porter,  Rev.  Dr.  Noah 202 

Prentice,  George  D 97,  408 

Preston,  Mrs. 311 

Priest,  Nancy  A.  W 406 

Proctor,  Bryan  W 332 

Punshon,  Rev.  Dr.W.  Morley.,231, 

253,  267,  831,  385 


Read,  T.  Buchanan 338 

Reed,  Rev.  Dr.  Alexander 820 

Rice,  Mrs.  C.  L 801 

Robertson,  Rev.  Dr.  P.  \V 242 


Rogers,  Samuel 129,  215 

Rounds,  William  M.  P 199 

Sangster,  Margaiet  E 146 

Saxe,  John  G 327 

Scott,  Sir  Walter 195 

Seneca 267,  328 

Shakespeare,  William.  191,  225, 244,  314 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip 237 

Sigourney,  Mrs.  L.  H 65,  225,  238 

Simpson,  Bishop 269 

Smith,  Sidney 244 

Southey,  Robert 886,  352 

Sprague,  Charles 337 

Spurgeon,  Itev.  C.  H 212,  273 


PAGE 

Stillings,  Henrich  ...............  4o.> 

Stowe,  Mrs.  H    B  ..............     34,« 

Swain.  Charles  ..................    106 

Talmage,  Rev.T.  De  Witt..",G,  194. 

215  263,  267,  273,  323 
Taylor,  Bishop  ..................   134 

Taylor,  Rev.  Dr.  William  M  ......  240 

Tennyson,  Alfred  ............  110,  280 

Thomson,  James  ____  122,  129,  184,  331 

Tillotson  ........................     57 

Todd,  Rev.  Dr.  John  ............  202 

Trafton,  Rev.  Mark  ...........  90,     92 

Tupper,  Martin  F.  ...........  128,  295 

Turgot  ........................  244 

Tweedie,  Rev.  Dr.  W.  K  ........  274 

Wadsworth.  Rev.  Dr.  Charles  ____  296 

Walker,  Delia  E  .................  358 

Walker,  Dr.  James  ..............  331 

Watts,  Rev.  Dr.  Isaac  ...........  357 

Webster,  Daniel  ............  203,  388 

White,  Henry  Kirke  .............     79 

Whittier,  John  G  ............  249,  289 

Wilcox,  Carlos  ..................  336 

Willis,  Nathaniel  P  ...........  75,  258 

Williams,  Rev.  Dwight  ..........  387 

Woodworth,  Samuel.  .  .  .  .  ........  118 


Yoemans,  William  II 
Young,  Edward 


10 


Poetical  Selections  are    indicated  by   bold-face    number*. 


PAGE 

A  MOTHER'S  LARGE  AFFECTION Laman  Blanchard 24 

MY  MOTHER Abraham  Lincoln .    .  24 

MOTHER Fanny  Crosby 27 

MY  MOTHER  DEAR 8.  Lover 28 

MOTHER Joanna  BaiUie 28 

MOTHER,  HOME  AND  HEAVEN Mary  J.  Muclde 29 

MOTHER E.  L.  Cassanovia. 80 

THE  MOTHER  AT  HOME Mother's  Treasury 81 

A  MOTHER'S  LOVE Saxe  Holm 34 

A  MOTHER'S  HEART .Macmillan's  Magazine 35 

THE  LOVE  PRINCIPLE A.  A.  Hodge,  D.D. 35 

A  MOTHER'S  INFLUENCE J.  M.  Matthews.  D.D. 36 

A  MOTHER'S  PRAYEB Anonymous 42 

THE  MOTHER Thomas  Campbell 43 

TIRED  MOTHERS Mrs.  May  Eiky  Smith. . 44 

MOTHERS  OF  DISTINGUISHED  MJCN Anonymous 46 

MOTHERS  AND  SONS Christian  Intelligencer 50 

THE  MOTHER'S  PRATKR Anonymous 52 

A  MOTHER'S  LOVK   James  Montgomery 58 

THE  MOTHER'S  OPPORTUNITY Anonymous 54 

MOTTTERS,  Pur  YOUB  CHILDREN  TO  BID Mother's  Magazine 5(5 

tt 


CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

GOOD- NIGHT  Kiss Anonymous 67 

A  GOOD  WORD TiUotson 57 

MOTHER  AND  CHILD Thomas  Hood 58 

Ouu  MOTHER Rural  New  Yorker 59 

PARENTAL  AUTHORITY Mother's  Treasury 61 

COURTESIES  TO  PARENTS 8.  8.  Times 63 

THE  MOTHER'S  CHARGE Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigourney.    .  65 

AUTHORITY  OF  PARENTS Horace  Bushnell,  D.  D. ..  65 

THE  DYING  MOTHER J.  A.  Dacus 66 

RESPONSIBILITY  OF  PARENTS T.  F.  W. 68 

VISIT  YOUR  PARENTS Anonymous 69 

A  WORD  WITH  PARENTS  ABOUT  TITKTR  CHILDREN..  Anonymous 70 

CHARMS  VERSUS  MERIT Alexander  Pope 71 

THE  MOTHER'S  SORROW Methodist 72 

SORROWS H.  W.  Seecher 73 

/  THE  OLD  ARM-CHAIR Eliza  Cook 74 

MARY,  THE  MOTHER  OF  JESUS N.  P.  Willis 75 

MOTHER'S  VACANT  CHAIR T.  D«  Witt  Talmage. ...  76 

THE  MOTHER'S  WONDROUS  POWER. Mrs.  Sarah  J.  Hale 77 

RESPECT  FOR  MOTHERS Anonymous 78 

To  MY  MOTHER Henry  Kirke  White 79 

MY  MOTHER George  P.  Morris 79 

TRIBUTE  TO  A  MOTHER Lord  Macaulay 80 

THE  MOTHER'S  MISSION Anonymous 80 

OLD  AGE •. M.  W.  E. 81 

MY  MOTHER'S  HANDS Anonymous 82 

MY  MOTHER'S  PICTURE William  Cowper 83 

THE  MOTHER  AS  TEACHER A.  W,  K. 84 

How  MAMMA  PLAYS Etta  Farman 85 

MOTHER'S  EMPIRE Rev.  H.  H.  Birkins 87 

FOR  His  MOTHER'S  SAKE Anonymous 89 

WIFE  AND  MOTHER , Ret.  Mark  Trafton 90 

BE  KIND  UNTO  THE  OLD .Anonymous. 90 

THE  OLD  FOLKS Congregationalist 91 

12 


CONTENTS. 

PAG» 

MOTIIEK,  THE  QUEEN  OF  HXB  iloji« Ren.  Mark  Trafton 92 

MY  MOTHER'S  BIBLE George  P.  Morris 98 

MY  MOTHER'S  BIRLK Bishop  Gilbert  Haven 94 

MY  MOTHER'S  QKA VK Reo.  M.  C.  Henderson 96 

MOTHERS,  SPARE  YOOISEL v its Anonymous 97 

MY  MOTHER'S  GUAVK George  D.  Prenlue 93 


HOME Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 100 

DOMESTIC  HAPPINESS Earl  of  Orrery 100 

HOME Fanny  Crosby 103 

HOME .  .James  Montgomery 104 

HOME  DEFINED Charles  Swain 105 

THE  HOME  OF  CHILDHOOD Samuel  D.  Burchard,  D.D. .     106 

HOME  SONGS Anonymous 109 

THE  OLD  HOME Alfred  Tennyson 110 

HOME  SHADOWS Robert  Collyer,  D.D Ill 

HOME  ADORNMENTS Rev.  Dr.  Downing 112 

v/  SCENES  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD Samuel  Woodworth 118 

LONGINGS  FOR  HOME Oliver  Goldsmith 114 

HOME  GOVERNMENT — WHAT  is  IT  f MotJter's  Treasury 115 

HOME  GOVERNMENT — ITS  IMPORTANCE Rev.  B.  F.  Booth 116 

HOME  TRAINING  OF  CHILDREN D.  L.  Moody ' 119 

HOME  AFFECTION H.  C.  Dane 121 

HOME  TEACHING James  Thomson 122 

HOME  INSTRUCTION Hon.  Schuyler  Coif  ax. 123 

HOME  INFLUENCES Saturday  Evening  Post 124 

THE  SMILES  OF  HOME John  Keble 126 

HOME  COURTESY Anonymous 127 

THE  HAPPY  HOME Martin  F.  Tupfxr 128 

HOME  OF  OUK  CHILDHOOD Oliver  Wendell  Uolinet 128 

AJJ  IDEAL  HOME Samuel  Revert ._ . . .   129 

13 


OONTENT8. 

TAGR 

HOME James  Thomson. .: 129 

Hoxx  RELIGION Mother's  Treasury 180 

KIND  WORDS  AT  HOMR Anonymous 132 

A   HAPPY  HOMK   I)£Fi^£i> Bffti.  Dr.  Hamilton.    ....    132 

FAMILY  PRATERS Christian  at  Work 133 

FREQUENT  PRAYEK Bishop  Taylor 134 

No  TIME  TO  PRAT Anonymous 135 

v    THE  CHILDREN  . . . DicLeitwn. 136 

THE  CHILDREN H.'W.  Longfellow  138 

THE  RIGHTS  OP  CHILDREN LitteWs  Living  Age 139 

SUFFERINGS  OF  CHILDHOOD Appleton's  Journal 140 

GOVERNMENT  OF  CHILDREN Boston  Post 142 

KIND  WORDS Saturday  Evening  Post. .   143 

NOT  ONE  CHILD  TO  SPARE Mrs.  Ethel  L.  Beers 144 

BABIES  AND  THEIR  RIGHTS M,  E.  Sangster 146 

THE  CHILDREN'S  BED-TIME Jane  Ellis  Hopkins 149 

THE  EVENING  PRAYER Anonymous 151 

HOME  AND  ITS  QUEEN Scribner's  Monthly 152 

GIRLS'  INFLUENCE Anonymous 153 

To  OUR  GIRLS Mary  F.  Lathrop 155 

A  PLEA  FOR  THE  BOY New  York  Evening  Post. .   156 

'  BOYHOOD Rev.  W.  H.  H.  Murray. .    159 

MY  BOY Frank  T.  Marzials 160 

CHILDREN  OF  THE  RICH  AND  1'uoit,  CONTRASTED.  .James  Russell  Lowell  ....   161 

BE  KIND,  BOYS Horace  Mann 162 

GOOD  MANNERS Anonymous 163 

KIND  MANNERS  AT  HOME Anonymous 16^ 

HOME,  NEXT  TO  HEAVEN Anonymous 165 

HOME  AMUSEMENTS Rev.  W.  H.  H.  Murray. .   165 

A  CHEERFUL  HOME Friends'  Intelligencer 168 

THE  FARMER'S  HOME William  H.  Yoemans 169 

HOME  MEMORTJ  i Thomas  Hood 1 70 

SINGING  IN  TI    ,  FAMILY Arumymou* 178 

ART  IN  THE  FAMILY Baltimore  American 178 

14 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CONVERSATION Churchman 175 

SPEAK.  CHEERFUL  WORDS Anonyinou* 178 

NONE  LIVETH  TO  HIMSELF Anonymous 177 

SPEAK  A  GOOD  WOBD Anonymous 178 

SMILE Mrs.  Burr 179 

JOY  BRINGERS Anonymous 180 

GRUMBLERS Anonymous 180 

LOVE  TO  OUR  FELLOW  MEN  (Abou  Ben  Adhem) . .  Leigh  Hunt 181 

^  WORDS  TO  BOYS James  T.  Fields 182 

THE  LIGHT  OF  A  CHEERFUL  FACE Anonymous 183 

DOMESTIC  BLISS James  Thomson 184 

THE  BRIGHT  SIDE The  Interior 185 

WORTH  OF  LOOKING  ON  THE  BRIGHT  SIDB Dr.  Johnson 185 

THE  EVENING  HEARTHSTONE Anonymous 186 

CHEERFULNESS Anonymous 187 

COURTESY  AT  HOME Christian  Weekly 188 

CHRISTIAN  COURTESY Anonymous 190 

SELF-RESPECT  IN  COMPANY Lord  Chesterfield 190 

MODELS Oliver  Goldsmith 190 

N  THE  MORALITY  OF  MANNERS.  .  .• Horace  Mann 191 

THE  WITCHERY  OF  MANNER Anonymous 19'- 

BEST  MEN,  MOULDED  OUT  OF  FAULTS Shakespeare 19- 

CULTIVATE  PATIENCE Anonymous 193 

BEWARE  THE  FURY  OF  A  PATIENT  MAN John  Dryden. 193 

A  WOMAN'S  CARES T.  De  Witt  Talmage 194 

WOMAN'S  EQUALITY Matthew  Henry,  D.D 195 

WOMAN Sir  Walter  Scott  195 

TELL  YOUR  WIFE Pacific  Rural  Press 196 

HOSPITALITY Oliver  Goldsmith 197 

TRUE  HOSPITALITY / Sir  Arthur  Helps 197 

•  THE  RULE  OF  HOSPITALITY Wttttiam  M.  F.  Sound. .  19'.' 

NEVER  BE  ASHAMED  TO  OWN  THE  WBONG Alexander  Pope 200 

DON'T  BE  Too  SENSITIVE Anonymous 201 

'"  THE  FIUST  VIRTUE  is  TO  RESTRAIN  THE  TONGUE..  Goto 201 

15 


CONTENTS. 

I'ACiK 

ADVICE  TO  A  YOUNG  MAN John  Todd,  D.D. 202 

ADYICJC  TO  YOUNG  MEN Noah  Porter,  D.D. 202 

EDUCATION H.  W.  Beecher 203 

PRINCIPLES  VERSUS  HORSEMEN  OB  CHABIOTB W.  M.  PaxUm,D.D 203 

THE  SECURITY  OP  THE  NATION Daniel  Webster 203 

COUNSELS  TO  THE  YOUNG Anonymous 204 

THE  PROBLEM  OP  LIFE Phillips  Brooks 205 

EXAMPLE Lord  Clarendon 205 

GREAT  MEN  INSPIRED Cicero 205 

To  YOUNG  MEN D.  L.  Moody 206 

ABILITY  AND  OPPORTUNITY Herald  and  Presbyter. . . .    208 

HAPPINESS Alexander  Pope 210 

DOMESTIC  HAPPINESS William  Cowper >.  210 

FAMILY  LIFE,  A  TEST  OF  PIETY Golden  Rule 211 

AIM  AND  OBJECT  IN  LIFB Rev.  C.  H.  Spurgcon  . . .   212 

SELFISHNESS William  Cowper 213 

LIFE  AND  RELIGION  ARE  ON* George  MacDonald 213 

MAKE  YOUR  MARK David  Barker. 214 

THE  USES  OF  ADVERSITY Joseph  Addison 215 

THE  GOOD  ARE  BETTEB  MADE  BY  ILL Samuel  Ifogers 215 

TROUBLES  STRENGTHEN  THE  SOUL T.  De  Witt  Talmage  ...   215 

FOLLY  OF  FRETTING A.  A.  Lason 216 

NEVER  MIND Anonymous 218 

LITTLE  TROUBLES Mrs.  Amelia  E.  Barr. . .   219 

ANXIETY  is  THE  POISON  OK  Li  FK  • Blair     222 

MANY  DISHES  BRING  MANY  L»iai^>jia Pliny 222 

TRANSIENT  TEOUBLES Anonymous 223 

WORKING  AND  WAITING Anonymous 224 

CONTENT Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigourney. .  225 

DISCORDANCE Shakespeare 225 

LET  BYGONES  BE  BYGONES Chamber*'  Journal 226 

THE  CHRISTIAN  AT  HOME Anonymous. 227 

i  LELIGION  IN  THE  FAMILY Bishop  F.  D.  Iluntingtvn.  22R 

OKBTAINTDES  IN  RELIGION lim.  Joseph  Cook 228 

1 


CONTENTS. 

PAOR 
WINNING  SOULS Bishop  E.  8.  Janet 230 

THE  AGENCIES  FOB  GOOD W.  Morley  Punshon,  LL.D.  231 

YOUB  MISSION Daniel  March,  D.D 232 

>  THE  NOBILITY  OF  SEBYICE J.  0.  Holland 283 

WHATEVER  You  Do,  Do  IT  WELL Anonymous 234 

"'  INDUSTRY  Benjamin  Franklin 235 

ART— ITS  APPLICATION Sir  John  Herschel 235 

KNOW  THYSELF Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigourney 236 

NOBLE  THOUGHTS Sir  Philip  Sidney 237 

IMPORTANCE  OF  CHARACTER Methodist  Recorder 238 

INFLUENCE  OF  CHARACTER Wm.  M.  Taylor,  D.D 240 

A  GUILTY  CONSCIENCE  is  LIKE  A  WHIRLPOOL.  .Fuller 241 

STRENGTH  OF  CHARACTER F.  W.  Robertson,  D.D 242 

CHARACTER,  WE  TAKE  WITH  Us Humboldt 242 

TENDENCY  OF  CHARACTER A.  A.  Hodge,  D.D 242 

WORTH  OF  CHARACTER George  H.  Colton 243 

SPOTLESS  REPUTATION Shakespeare 243 

EARNESTNESS  OF  PURPOSE Timothy  Dwight,  D.D 243 

AMBITION John  Keble 243 

WANT  OF  DECISION Sidney  Smith 244 

COLUMBUS'  FAITH Turgot 244 

DON'T  BE  DISCOURAGED Anonymous < 245 

INFLUENCE Charles  Dickens 245 

'  EARTHLY  INFLUENCE Thomas  Carlyle 246 

POWER  OF  INFLUENCE F.  W.  Faber,  D.D 246 

POWER  OF  INFLUENCE  .  Christian  Weekly 247 

PERPETUITY  OF  INFLUENCE J.  Q.  Whittier 249 

DOING  GOOD Richard  Penrose 249 

SYMPATHY,  NOT  LOST Anonymous 251 

TRIALS Anonymous.  252 

TRIALS,  A  TEST  OF  CHARACTER W.  Morley  Punshon,  LL.D.  253 

ELEMENTS  OF  SUCCESS  IN  LIFE A.  D.  F 254 

PRESS  ON! N.  P.  Willis. 258 

AMBITION Anonymous. 259 

B  17 


CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

TEARS  OF  SYMPATHY Byron 260 

"'  A  WORTHY  AMBITION John  B.  Gough 261 

COMMON  TRUTHS Lord  Baton ' 261 

*  THE  SUMMIT  GAINED  BY  SLOW  DEGREES H.  W.  Longfellow 261 

MAKE  HOME  LIFE  BEAUTIFUL Prof.  B.  O.  Northrop 262 

WOMAN  AT  HOME T.  De  Witt  Talmage 263 

THE  CHARM  OF  WOMAN W.  E.  Gladstone,  M.P. 263 

THE  HOMESTEAD Phoebe  Gary 264 

HOME T.  De  Witt  Talmage 267 

THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS Wm.  Morley  Punshon,  LL.D.  267 

RULE  OF  CONDUCT Seneca 267 

FIRESIDE  MUSINGS Ada  A.  Chaffee 268 

EARLY  INFLUENCES Bishop  Simpson 269 

PREFERENCE  FOR  THE  RIGHT Henry  Olay 269 

A  PLEA  FOR  HOME Theodore L.  Cuyler,  D.D. 270 

MAKE  SOME  ONE  HAPPY T.  De  Witt  Talmage 273 

MAN'S  BEST  POWERS  POINT  HIM  GODWARD — Rev.  0.  H.  Spurgeon 273 

THE  TRIALS  OF  HOME W.  K.  Tweedie,  D.D 274 

SANCTIFIED  AFFLICTIONS Watchman  and  Reflector 278 

1  'Tis  BETTER  TO  HAVE  LOVED  AND  LOST Alfred  Tennyson 280 

IMMORTALITY Robert  Pollock 280 

DEATH,  THE  PATH  TO  GOD Thomas  Parndl. 280 

CONSOLATION Mary  H.  Houghton 281 

OUR  LAMBS Anonymous 284 

MY  BABY Evangelist 287 

v  CHILDHOOD John  G.  Whittier 289 

OUR  DEAR  ONES James  Aldrich 290 

'Tis  A  BLESSING  TO  LIVB John  K.  Mitchell. 290 

THE  LITTLE  CHILDREN Henry  W.  Longfellow 291 

ARE  ALL  THE  CHILDREN  IN  ? Mrs.  8.  T.  Perry 292 

ARE  THE  CHILDREN  AT  HOME  I Mrs.  M.  E.  Songster. 298 

A  LINK  BETWEEN  ANGELS  AND  MEN Martin  F.  Tvpper 295 

DEATH  OF  CHILDREN Charles  Wadsworth,  D.D. 296 

MY  EOT John  Moultru .  .  297 

18 


CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

QUIET  USEFULNESS John  Hall,  D.D. 297 

••  HOME  BEREAVEMENTS Henry  Ward  Beecher ....  298 

THE  ANGEL-CHILD Mrs.  0.  L.  Rice 301 

/  AN  ANGEL  MET  MY  GAZE James  Russell  Lowell. . .  301 

EMPTY  CRADLES Mrs.  &.  A.  H.  McLeod..  302 

MY  CHILD John  Pierpont 304 

SONSHINE  FOR  THE  SORROWING Theo.  L.  Cuyler,  D.D. .  806 

WE  KNOW  NOT  WHAT  is  BEFORE  Us Mary  G.  Brainard 308 

PASSING  AWAY Mrs.  F.  D.  Remans 309 

BY-AND-BYE Mrs.  Preston 311 

BROKEN  TIES Christian  Weekly 312 

LIVE  WELL John  Milton 313 

LIFE — A  PLAY Shakespeare 314 

COMPUTATION  OF  LIFE J.  R.  Planche 315 

LIFE'S  EPITAPH Congregationalist 316 

THE  LIFE  CLOCK Anonymous 317 

LIFE'S  BOUNDARY  LINE,  OR  THE  DOOMED  MAN J.  A.  Alexander,  D.D..  318 

BREVITY  OF  LIFE Henry  King 320 

RESPONSIBILITIES  OF  LIFE Alexander  Reed,  D.D. . .  320 

LIFE Lord  Byron 821 

MYSTERY  OF  LIFE  Anna  Letitia  Barbauld. .  321 

*'  BOUNDARIES  OF  LIFE Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. .  322 

THE  VANITY  OF  LIFE Edward  Young 322 

LIFE.  A  BOOK John  Mason 822 

OUR  LIFE  A  SERMON T.  De  Witt  Talmage. . . .  323 

v  How  TO  LIVE William  0.  Bryant 323 

GOD'S  DEMANDS Rev.  William  Jay 323 

THE  VOYAGE  OF  LIFE Madame  Guyon 323 

CHRISTIAN  LIVING N.  T.  Observer. 327 

FALSE  PRIDE  IN  LIFE John  G.  Saxe 827 

LIFE  REACTING  UPON  LIFB Mrs.  E.  B.  Browning. . .  828 

OUR  LIVES  ARE  ALBUMS John  Milton 328 

MUTUAL  DEPENDENCE Seneca. 828 

Do  TO-DAY  THY  NEAREST  DUTY Goethe 827 

10 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

YOUNG  MEN  LEA  VINO  HOME Christian  Voice* 829 

WORLDLY  PLEASURES  AND  THEIR  INFLUENCE.. Dr.  Jama  Walker 831 

THE  RESULT  OP  ACTIONS,  THE  CRITERION  OP 

JUDGMENT  ...   Lord  Chesterfield 331 

SCORN  PLEASURE  WHICH  GFVES  PAIN James  Thomson , 331 

LABOR  is  THE  TRUE  ALCHEMIST TT.  Morley  Punshon,  LL.D. .   331 

STRIKE  WHILE  THE  IRON  is  HOT Oliver  Cromwell. 331 

RETURNING  HOME Miss  Mulock. 332 

TRAVELLING  HOME Bryan  W.  Proctor 382 

HOME,  SWEET  HOME John  Howard  Payne 333 

MEMORY  OP  HOME T.  Buchanan  Bead 333 

JOYS  OF  HOME John  Bowring 834 

HARVEST  HOME James  Montgomery 335 

OUR  LAST  FAREWELLS Carlos  Wilcox 336 

FAREWELL  TO  HOME Robert  Southey 336 

THE  FAMILY  MEETING Gharks  8p*ague . .  33  7 


THE  WAY  TO  HEAVEN Bishop  of  Lonsdd* . .  840 

THOUGHTS  OP  HEAVEN. Bisftop  Home 340 

HEAVEN Fanny  J.  Crosby 343 

THE  APOSTLE  JOHN'S  IDEA  op  HEAVEN J.  W.  Alexander,  D.D 344 

PAUL'S  ESTIMATE  OP  HEAVEN Hannah  More 844 

HEAVEN,  A  HOME Thomas  Guthrie,  D.D 345 

IN  HEAVEN,  HANDS  CLASP  FOREVER Greek  Proverb 345 

HEAVEN Daniel  March,  D.D 346 

HEAVEN,  A  CITY Thomas  Guthrie,  D.D 346 

HEAVEN,  A  RESTING-PLACE Charles  Mackay 347 

MY  FATHER'S  HOUSE Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe 348 

THE  HEAVENLY  PLACE Howard  Crosby,  D.D 349 

THOUGHTS  OP  HEAVEN William  Pearce 851 

20 


CONTENTS. 


RECOGNITION  la  HBAYKN  ..................  Robert  Southey  .............  852 

HEAVENLY  RECcxranroN  .................  .  .Bishop  Thomas  Km  ........  852 

ATTRACTIONS  OF  HEAVEN  ..................  Bernard  Barton  ............  858 

THE  TRUEST  END  OP  LIFE  .................  William  Penn  .............   353 

ENTERING  HEAVEN  ........................  Bet.  J.  L.  Harris  ..........  854 

"    THE  WONDERS  OF  HEAVEN  .................  John  Newton.  ..............   356 

DELIGHTS  OF  HEAVEN  .....................  Dr.  Isaac  Watts.  ...........  357 

IGNORANCE  OF  THE  FUTURE  LIFB.  .  .........  Richard  Baxter.  ..  ........     857 

BEAUTIFUL  HEAVEN  .......................  Delia  E.  Walker  ...........  858 

SONGS  IN  HEAVEN  .........................  If.  T.  B.  ...............  .  ,  359 

HYMNS  OF  HEAVEN  ........................  TJieo.  L.  Guyler,  D.D  ......   860 

ECHOES  FROM  HEAVEN  .....................  John  Gumming,  D.D  .......    361 

HEAVENLY  REALITIES  ......................  Miss  Marsh  ...............    362 

THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  HEAVEN  ...............  John  8.  G.  Abbott,  D.D  .....   363 

THE  LAND  OF  BEULAH  .....................  G.  Huntington  .............  366 

1   THE  SILENT  SHORE  ........................  Charles  Lamb.  .............  367 

THE  DEATH  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS  ............  Dean  Millman  .............  367 

HEAVEN  —  NOT  FAR  AWAY  ..................  Anonymous  ...............  368 

THERE  is  NO  DEATH  .......................  Bulwer  Lytton  .............  369 

OUR  FRIENDS  IN  HEAVEN  ..................  Anonymous.   ..............   371 

MINISTERING  ANGELS  ......................  Kingswood  Chronicle  ........   374 

THREE  UNCHANGEABLES  ...................  Matthew  Henry,  D.D  .......    375 

THE  STARLESS  CROWN  .....................  J.  L.  H  .................  .  876 

BRINGING  OUR  SHEAVES  WITH  Us  ..........  Elizabeth  Ackers  ............  878 

THE  SHORE  OF  ETERNITY  ..................  F.  W.  Fdber,  D.D  .........  879 

HYMNS  OF  LONGING  FOB  REST  ..............  Theo.  L.  Cuyler,  D.D  ......   881 

AT  EVENTIDE  IT  SHALL  BE  LIGHT  ..........  Anonymous  ..............   884 

REUNION  IN  HEAVEN  ......................  W.  Morley  Punshon,  LL.D...  885 

WHAT  MUST  IT  BE  TO  BE  THERE  f  .........  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Mitt*  ........  886 

JOY  IN  THE  MORNING  .....................  Rev.  Dwight  Williams  ......  887 

v  MY  RESPONSIBILITY  TO  GOD  ................  Daniel  Webster  .  ............  888 

THE  SUNSET  HOUR  OF  LIFB  ...............  Anonymous  ...............  889 

THE  JOY  OF  INCOMPLETENESS  ..............  Sunday  Magazine  ..........  890 

THERE'S  NoTHma  TBUB  BUT  HBAVRW  ......  Thomas  Moore.  ............  891 

21 


CONTENTS. 

PAGH 

DEPARTURE  OP  FRIENDB .   .James  Montgomery 392 

No  SECTS  IN  HEAVEN Mrt.  Slie.  H.  Jocelyn...  393 

HEAVEN F.  W.  Faber,  D.D 397 

ANTICIPATION  OP  HEAVEN Thomas  Moore 398 

A  HOME  IN  HEAVEN William  Hunter 399 

THOSE  MANSIONS  ABOVE  Parish  Visitor 400 

AT  HOME  IN  HEAVEN Charles  F.  Deems,  D.D..   402 

MEETNESS  FOR  HEAVEN United  Presbyterian 404 

FORETOKENS  OP  HEAVEN S.  W.  Hamilton 405 

BLESSED  ARE  THE  HOME-SICK Henrich  Stillings 405 

JOTS  OP  HEAVEN Nancy  A.  W.  Priest 406 

UNVAILED  HEAVEN Ernst  Lange,  D.D 407 

WHAT  is  HEAVEN  ? John  Kelle 407 

IMMORTALITY George  D.  Prentice 408 

TIME  AND  ETERNITY Horatius  Bonar 409 

No  NIGHT  IN  HEAVKN Anonymous 410 

No  SORROW  THERE Daniel  March,  D.D 411 

FAREWELL  LIPE,  WELCOME  LITE Thomas  Hood 412 

THE  END Anonymout 413 

BENEDICTION Anonym&ut 414 


*2Y»  a  mother's  large  ajfectivn 
Hears  with  a  mysterious  sense,-  • 
Breathings  that  escape  detection 
Whisper  faint,  and  fine  inflection 
Thrill  in  her  with  power  intense. 
Childhood's  honeyed  words  untaught, 
Hiveth  she  in  loving  thought, 
Tones  that  never  thence  depart. 
For  sh*  listens — with  her  heart, 

LAMAN  BLANCHARD. 

All  that  lam  or  hope  to  be  I  owe  to  my  mother. 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 


THE  MOTHER'S  TREASURE. 


MOTHER. 


^WRITTEN     EXPRESSLY     FOR     THIS     WORK.] 

By  Fanny  J.  Crosby. 

HE  light,  the  spell-word  of  the  heart, 
Our  guiding  star  in  weal  or  woe, 

Our  talisman — our  earthly  chart — 

That  sweetest  name  that  earth  can  know. 

We  breathed  it  first  with  lisping  tongue 
When  cradled  in  her  arms  we  lay; 

Fond  memories  round  that  name  are  hung 
That  will  not,  cannot  pass  away. 

We  breathed  it  then,  we  breathe  it  still, 

More  dear  than  sister,  friend,  or  brother ; 

The  gentle  power,  the  magic  thrill. 
Awakened  at  the  name  of  mother. 


MY    MOTHER    DEAR 

8.  Lover. 

>HERE  was  a  place  in  childhood  that  I  remember  well, 

And  there  a  voice  of  sweetest  tone  bright  fairy  tales  did 

tell, 

And  gentle  words,  and  fond  embrace,  were  given  with  joy  to  mo, 
When  I  was  in  that  happy  place  upon  my  mother's  knee. 

When  fairy  tales  were  ended,  "  Good  night,"  she  softly  said, 
And  kissed,  and  laid  me  down  to  sleep,  within  my  tiny  bed, 
And  holy  words  she  tanght  me  then — methinks  I  yet  can  see 
Her  angel  eyes,  as  close  I  knelt  beside  my  mother's  knee. 

In  the  sickness  of  my  childhood,  the  perils  of  my  prime, 

The  sorrows  of  my  riper  years,  the  cares  of  ev'ry  time, 

When  donbt  and  danger  weighed  me  down,  then  pleading  all  for  me, 

It  was  a  fervent  prayer  to  Heaven  that  bent  my  mother's  knee. 


MOTHER. 

Joanna  Baffli*. 

'HEN  we  are  sick,  where  can  we  turn  for  snccor, 
When  we  are  wretched,  where  can  we  complain  I 
And  when  the  world  looks  cold  and  snrly  on  us, 
Where  can  we  go  to  meet  a  wanner  eye 
With  such  snre  confidence  as  to  a  mother  I 

28 


MOTHER,  HOME  AND  HEAVEN. 

Mary  J.  Muekb, 

>HEHE  are  three  words  that  sweetly  blend, 

That  on  the  heart  are  graven ; 
A  precious  soothing  balm  they  lend — 
They're  Mother,  Home  and  Heaven ! 

They  twine  a  wreath  of  beauteous  flowers, 

Which,  placed  on  memory's  urn, 
"Will  e'en  the  longest,  gloomiest  hours 

To  golden  sunlight  turn  1 

They  form  a  chain  whose  every  link 

Is  free  from  base  alloy ; 
A  stream  where  whosoever  drinks 

Will  find  refreshing  joy  1 

They  build  an  altar  where  each  day 

Love's  offering  is  renewed ; 
And  peace  illumes  with  genial  ray 

Life's  darkened  solitude ! 

If  from  our  side  the  first  has  fled, 

And  Home  be  but  a  name, 
Let's  strive  the  narrow  path  to  tread, 

That  we  the  last  may  gain  1 


MOTHER 

E.  L.  Cassanovia. 

life's  commotions — dismal  fears — 
Mid  cares  and  woes,  and  floods  of  tears, 
How  sweetly  breaks  upon  the  ear 

Some  word  of  comfort  or  of  cheer  ; 

Yet  of  our  friends  there's  not  another 

Who  speaks  as  gently  as  our  mother. 

Here  disappointments  crowd  each  day, 
Our  brightest  hopes  soon  fade  away, 
And  friends  long  trusted  oft  deceive ; 
We  scarcely  know  whom  to  believe, 
Yet,  though  we  fear  to  trust  each  other, 
We're  not  afraid  to  trust  our  mother. 

Yet  here  where  there's  so  much  deceit, 
Some  friends  we  have  we  love  to  meet , 
There's  love  we  know  that  will  endure. 
Not  sordid,  selfish,  but  all  pure ; 
But  though  beloved  by  sister,  brother, 
There's  none  that  love  us  like  our  mother. 

Among  the  names  to  mortals  given, 
There's  none  like  mother,  home  and  heaven  ; 
For  home's  no  home  without  her  care ; 
And  heaven,  we  know  she  will  be  there ; 
Then  let  us,  while  we  love  each  other, 
Remember  and  be  kind  to  mother. 


THE    MOTHER    AT    HOME. 

RCHBISHOP  LEIGHTON  says,  "  FiU  the  bushel  with  good 
wheat,  and  there  will  be  no  room  for  chaff  and  rubbish." 
This  is  a  good  thought  for  every  mother  while  tending  her 
children,  and  watching  the  growth  of  their  power  in  body  and  mind. 

"  As  soon  as  they  be  born,"  the  Bible  says,  "  children  go  astray, 
speaking  lies."  So  soon,  therefore,  will  a  Christian  mother  begin  to 
"  train  her  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,"  that  good  habits  may  be 
formed,  ready  to  carry  out  good  principles  as  the  child  grows  old 
enough  to  understand  the  reason  for  his  conduct. 

Good  moral  habits  are  essential  to  the  healthf ulness  of  the  home ; 
and  these  may  be  best  taught  by  the  watchful  mother's  training. 
One  important  part  of  her  work  is  to  remove  hindrances  out  of  her 
children's  way  to  health  and  happiness.  No  dirt,  or  dirty  habits, 
for  example,  should  be  permitted.  Washing  their  hands  and  faces 
many  times  in  the  day  will  often  remove  a  sense  of  discomfort 
which  makes  them  fretful,  as  also  will  giving  them  food  at  regular 
periods.  Ragged  dress,  too,  and  broken  fastenings,  add  a  feeling 
of  degradation,  that  a  careful  mother  will  prevent  as  far  as  possible 
by  keeping  their  clothes  whole,  neat,  and  clean.  Making  their  own 
garments,  we  may  here  remark,  gives  useful  employment  to  girls, 
and  is  an  important  aid  in  training  them  up  to  thrifty  habits.  Many 
families  go  in  rags  because  they  never  learned  to  sew;  while  the 
same  wages  in  the  hands  of  those  who  know  how  to  employ  that 
useful  "  one-eyed  servant,"  the  needle,  keep  the  household  looking 
always  respectable. 

81 


THE    MOTHER    AT    HOME. 

Children  also  should  have  time  to  play.  Happiness  is  a  great 
promoter  of  health.  The  Bible  mentions  "  boys  and  girls  playing 
in  the  streets,"  as  one  sign  of  national  prosperity.  They  do  not 
need  expensive  toys  A  little  French  prince  turned  from  his  new 
year's  present  of  toys  from  an  empress  grandmother  to  watch  some 
peasants  making  dirt  pies,  and,  it  is  said,  begged  the  queen  his 
mother  to  allow  him  to  join  in  the  sport  which  seemed  so  charming 
to  his  childish  eye,  as  offering  some  scope  to  his  ingenuity.  A  few 
old  bits  of  wood,  or  scraps  of  broken  crockery,  stones,  and  oyster- 
shells,  afford  inexhaustible  amusement,  cost  nothing,  and  do  not 
spoil ;  while  if  the  mother  will  now  and  then  put  in  a  word  to  show 
an  interest  in  her  little  ones'  games,  her  own  spirit  will  be  refreshed 
and  cheered  by  their  light-heartedness. 

Children  are  wonderful  imitators,  so  that  it  is  comparatively  easy 
to  lead  them  early  into  good  ways.  They  are  never  so  happy  as 
when  trying  to  do  what  they  see  older  people  do.  Their  plays 
chiefly  consist  in  copying  elders.  The  little  cottager  "makes 
believe  "  to  go  to  market,  to  plant  a  garden,  to  make  hay,  to  wash, 
to  build,  to  cook,  and  to  teach  in  school.  The  boys  are  never 
merrier  than  when  playing  at  horses,  or  in  some  other  way  aspiring 
to  be  like  their  elders.  Many  of  these  games  bring  the  bodily 
organs  into  excellent  exercise,  and  strengthen  and  build  up  the 
system  wonderfully.  These  amusements,  too,  often  really  prepare 
the  children  for  the  actual  business  of  life,  so  that  they  the  sooner 
become  helpful  to  their  parents.  They  should  be  watched  and 
encouraged  therefore  in  their  play  to  habits  of  thoughtfulness  and 
self-reliance. 

Let  it  be  remembered  also,  that,  while  by  all  means  it  is  well  to 
send  children  to  school,  the  largest  portion  of  their  education, 
whether  for  good  or  evil,  is  carried  on  at  home,  often  unconsciously, 
in  their  amusements,  and  under  the  daily  influence  of  what  they 

32 


THE    MOTHER    AT    HOME. 

see  and  hear  about  them.  It  is  there  that  "  subtle  brains  and  lis- 
som fingers  "  find  scope,  and  learn  to  promote  the  well-being  of  the 
community.  "We  cannot  tell  what  duties  our  children  may  be 
called  to  perform  in  after-life;  many  of  England's  greatest  men 
were  born  poor  cottagers.  But  we  can,  in  a  great  measure,  preserve 
their  brains  and  limbs  from  injury ;  we  cau  cultivate  their  faculties, 
and  teach  them  to  exercise  all  their  senses, — to  use  their  hands 
diligently  and  skillfully,  to  observe  with  their  eyes,  to  listen  to  good 
instruction;  in  short,  we  can,  by  God's  help,  teach  them,  as  the 
prophet  says,  "  to  choose  the  good  and  refuse  the  evil."  We  can 
encourage  them  to  be  apt  to  learn,  so  that  they  may  with  -readiness 
set  about  any  duty  which  God  may  place  before  them. 

Are  the  children  naughty?  Must  they  be  punished?  "The  Lord 
loveth  the  son  whom  He  chasteneth;"  "As  many  as  I  love  I 
rebuke  and  chasten,"  are  texts  which  will  mitigate  the  anger  of  both 
father  and  mother,  and  teach  them  to  adopt  such  means  of  correc- 
tion as  shall  improve  instead  of  harden  their  children's  minds.  Is  a 
little  daughter  lame  and  sickly  ?  Does  a  son  get  into  a  hard  place  ? 
"  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that 
f  eaV  Him ; "  "  As  one  whom  his  mother  comf  orteth,  so  will  I  com- 
fort you,"  saith  the  Lord. 

Does  work  fail  and  removal  among  strangers  seem  inevitable? 
The  children's  conclusion  that  "  Father  will  see  about  it,"  "  Mother 
will!  be  with  us,"  are  phrases  full  of  deeper  meaning  to  their  parents' 
ears  as  they  raise  their  hearts  to  God,  and  remember,  "  Thou  corn- 
passest  my  path;"  "Thou  knowest  my  way;"  "Though  I  walk 
through  the  midst  of  trouble  Thou  wilt  revive  me." 

"Within  Thy  circling  power  I  stand. 
On  every  side  I  find  Thine  hand  : 
Awake,  asleep,  at  home,  abroad, 
I  am  surrounded  still  by  God." 
c  33 


A    MOTHER'S    LOVE. 

And  when  strength  fails,  and  a  dear  child  is  languishing  into 
another  life  beyond  the  grave,  who  can  tend  the  dying  bed  like  a 
mother?  In  whom  is  there  so  much  trust  as  in  a  father's  love? 
Talk  about  duty  to  children,  there  is  no  pleasure  sweeter  than  that 
of  training  them  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord, 
repaid  as  it  is  by  their  fervent  friendship  in  after-life,  and  the  hope 
of  presenting  them  washed  in  a  Saviour's  blood  and  faultless  before 
the  great  white  throne  at  the  last  day. — Mother's  Treasury. 


A    MOTHER'S    LOYE. 
(TYPICAL  OF  GOD'S  LOVE.) 

a  cradle  rocking,  rocking, 
Silent,  peaceful,  to  and  fro ; 
Like  a  mother's  sweet  looks  dropping 

On  the  little  face  below, 
Hangs  the  green  earth,  swinging,  turning, 

Jarless,  noiseless,  safe  and  slow  ; 
Falls  the  light  of  God's  face  bending 

Down  and  watching  us  below. 
And  as  feeble  babes  that  suffer, 

Toss  and  cry,  and  will  not  rest, 
Are  the  ones  the  tender  mother 

Holds  the  closest,  loves  the  best : 
So,  when  we  are  weak  and  wretched, 

By  our  sins  weighed  down,  distressed, 
Then  it  is  that  God's  great  patience 
Holds  us  closest,  loves  us  best. 
84 


A   MOTHER'S    HEART. 

LITTLE  dreaming,  such  as  mothers  know  ; 

A  little  lingering  over  dainty  things  ; 
A  happy  heart,  wherein  hope  all  aglow 

Stirs  like  a  bird  at  dawn  that  wakes  and  sings, 
And  that  is  all. 

A  little  clasping  to  her  yearning  breast ; 

A  little  musing  over  future  years  ; 
A  heart  that  prays  :  "  Dear  Lord,  thou  knowest  best 

But  spare  my  flower  life's  bitterest  rain  of  tears  " 
And  that  is  all. 

A  little  spirit  speeding  through  the  night ; 

A  little  home  grown  lonely,  dark  and  chill ; 
A  sad  heart  groping  blindly  for  the  h'ght ; 

A  little  snow-clad  grave  beneath  the  hill— 
And  that  is  all. 

A  little  gathering  of  life's  broken  thread  ; 

A  little  patience  keeping  back  the  tears  ; 
A  heart  that  sings,  "  Thy  darling  is  not  dead, 

God  keeps  her  safe  through  his  eternal  years  " — 
And  that  is  all. — Macmillcm's 


love  principle  is  stronger  than  the  force  principle. 

Dr.  A.  A.  Uodgt. 
85 


A  MOTHER'S  INFLUENCE. 

/.  M.  Matthews,  D.  D. 

have  read  history  to  little  purpose  if  we  have  not  observed 
that  there  are  periods  when  corruption  seems  to  acquire  a 
peculiar  and  fearful  sway  in  our  world;  and  these  sad 
changes  are  generally  attributed  to  the  influence  of  some  distin- 
guished leader  or  leaders  in  wickedness,  who  impress  their  own  cor- 
rupt image  on  the  generation  in  which  they  live.  But  if  we  trace 
the  evils  to  their  true  source,  we  must  go  farther  back  than  to  the 
men  who  stand  thus  prominent  in  producing  them.  Had  I  time,  I 
would  here  show,  that  all  those  great  changes  from  bad  to  worse 
which  have  rendered  nations  so  corrupt  as  to  consign  them  to  ruin, 
have  been  effected  through  the  corrupting  influence  of  mothers,  act- 
ing on  those  in  childhood,  who  in  manhood  became  the  leading  men 
of  their  day.  Such,  the  holy  Scriptures  inform  us,  was  the  real  cause 
of  that  awful  wickedness  which  brought  the  waters  of  the  deluge  on 
the  earth.  It  was  not  till  "  the  sons  of  God  took  to  them  wives  of 
the  daughters  of  men "  (thus  contracting  unhallowed  and  forbidden 
alliances),  that  "  the  wickedness  of  man  became  so  great  in  the  earth, 
that  it  repented  the  Lord  that  he  had  made  man,  and  he  said,  I  will 
destroy  man  which  I  created  from  the  face  of  the  earth."  And 
what  is  so  marked  as  the  immediate  cause  of  the  wide-spread 
depravity  which  called  for  the  destruction  of  a  world,  is  equally 
marked  in  other  parts  of  the  Scriptures,  as  the  grand  source  of  ruin 
to  the  nations  whose  history  they  record.  Have  you  never  observed 
how  frequently  they  allude  to  the  mothers  of  Israel  and  of  Judah's 
kings,  when  in  the  days  of  the  nation's  decline  the  throne  passed  in 

36 


A  MOTHER'S  INFLUENCE. 

such  rapid  succession  from  one  king  to  another,  "  who  did  evil  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord  "  ?  The  career  of  guilt  and  declension  was  some- 
time checked  by  the  raising  up  of  one  good  king  who  walked  in 
the  way  of  the  Lord.  Such  was  Josiah,  of  whom  we  are  told,  "  his 
mother's  name  was  Jedediah ; "  a  name  which  at  once  announces  her 
piety  and  worth.  But  see  how  the  parentage  of  the  wicked  and 
idolatrous  kings  is  noted.  We  are  told  of  Abijah,  the  grandson  of 
Solomon,  who  was  perhaps  the  first  who  filled  the  land  with  idolatry, 
that  his  mother's  name  was  Maachah.  Of  Ahaziah,  the  son  of  Ahab, 
who  did  evil  exceedingly  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  we  are  told  that 
his  mother  was  Jezebel,  who  stirred  up  his  father  Ahab  to  sin.  In 
like  manner  we  are  told  of  Jehoahaz,  that  his  mother's  name  was 
Haiimtal ;  of  Jehoiakim,  that  his  mother's  name  was  Zebadah ;  of 
Jehoiachin,  that  his  mother's  name  was  Nehushta :  names  which, 
taken  in  connection  with  their  history,  sufficiently  show  the  evil 
courses  they  pursued,  and  the  consequent  evil  influence  they  would 
exert. 

Now,  why  was  this  all  so  carefully  noted  ?  It  was  to  show  that 
the  bane  of  the  nation  was  found  in  the  nurseries  of  her  kings, 
where  their  infant  minds  were  tainted  and  poisoned  by  their  Jezebel 
mothers ;  and  that  being  thus  early  led  into  sin,  when  in  after-life 
they  gained  the  throne,  their  baleful  influence  was  felt  in  spreading 
wickedness  around  them,  till  their  nation  was  carried  away  into  cap- 
tivity, and  their  land  left  a  desolation.  It  was  the  corrupt  queen- 
mothers  corrupting  the  minds  of  their  infant  sons,  who  were  to  be, 
in  future,  kings,  that  primarily  and  mainly  drew  down  the  anger  of 
God ;  nor  was  it  till  this  insidious  source  of  evil  had  been  for  gener- 
ations at  work,  that  hope  finally  perished. 

But  if  maternal  influence  is  thus  powerful  for  evil,  it  is  equally 
powerful  for  good,  when  rightly  and  wisely  employed.  Nor  do  I 
believe  the  assertion  at  all  too  strong,  when  I  say,  that  the  greatest 

37 


A  MOTHER'S  INFLUENCE. 

and  best  of  those  whom  we  count  among  the  great  and  good  of 
our  race,  have  always  derived  the  elements  of  their  characters  from 
maternal  care  bestowed  on  them  in  childhood.  If ,  in  all  the  annals 
of  the  human  race,  there  be  an  exception  to  our  position,  let 
it  be  named;  let  us  be  told  where  it  is.  It  cannot  be  found  in 
the  pages  of  sacred  history.  The  testimony  here,  respecting  those 
whose  names  it  has  embalmed  for  immortality,  is  all  one  way. 
Such,  it  tells  us,  was  the  training  under  which  the  childhood  of 
Moses  was  passed.  The  faith  and  piety  of  his  mother  was  so  strong, 
that  "she  did  not  fear  the  king's  wrath;"  thus  showing  herself  a 
fit  mother  for  a  son  who  was  to  be  the  deliverer  of  Israel  from 
Egyptian  bondage,  and  the  lawgiver  to  the  redeemed  nation.  And 
who  does  not  see  the  hand  and  design  of  God  in  that  wonderful 
train  of  events  which  secured  to  the  child  of  such  high  destiny,  the 
care  of  a  mother  so  peculiarly  fitted  for  her  task?  Under  a  like 
happy  influence  was  the  childhood  of  David  passed,  as  he  acknowl- 
edges in  his  subsequent  days  of  power  and  fame :  "  O  Lord, 
truly  I  am  Thy  servant ;  I  am  Thy  servant,  and  the  son  of  Thine 
handmaid :  Thou  hast  loosed  my  bonds.  I  will  offer  to  Thee  the 
sacrifice  of  thanksgiving,  and  will  call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord  :  " 
thus  in  the  days  of  his  highest  prosperity  and  greatest  fame,  recog- 
nizing his  pious  mother's  influence,  not  only  as  having  mainly 
contributed  to  elevate  him  to  Israel's  throne,  but  as  having  been 
the  bright  star  which  kept  alive  his  hope  in  the  darkest  hour  of 
his  previous  troubles.  To  the  same  cause,  as  already  observed,  in 
the  case  of  Josiah,  are  we  taught  to  attribute,  in  great  measure, 
the  wisdom  and  power  which  distinguished  such  of  Judah's  kings 
as  "  did  that  which  was  right  in  tke  sight  of  the  Lord."  Again : 
John,  the  forerunner  of  our  Saviour,  is  said  to  have  had  none  greater 
than  himself  of  all  who  had  been  born  of  women.  But  his  mother 
was  Elizabeth,  a  woman  who  "walked  in  all  the  commandments 

38 


A  MOTHER'S  INFLUENCE. 

and  ordinances  of  the  Lord  blameless."  Again :  among  the  apostles 
of  onr  Lord  was  one  distinguished  as  "a  son  of  thunder;"  and 
another  privileged  to  "lean  on  his  Master's  bosom,"  and  to 
receive  very  special  tokens  of  His  love.  But  when  we  are  told  of 
the  piety  and  holy  ambition  of  their  mother,  we  may  account,  at 
least  in  part,  for  their  distinction  among  the  twelve  (Matt.  xx.  20, 
21).  And  not  to  mention  others  from  the  sacred  Scriptures,  as 
Timothy,  whose  "unfeigned  faith  dwelt  first  in  his  grandmother 
Lois,  and  his  mother  Eunice ;"  on  whom,  let  me  ask,  has  the 
Saviour's  mantle  ever  fallen,  or  in  whom  has  His  Spirit  ever  dwelt, 
with  peculiar  manifestation,  who  may  not  be  added  to  the  cloud  of 
witnesses  on  this  point  ?  In  far-gone  times,  look  into  the  biographies 
of  Polycarp,  Augustine,  Justin,  Gregory,  and  others  of  the  Fathers  ; 
and  in  latter  days,  look  to  the  childhood  of  Matthew  Henry, 
Edwards,  Dwight,  Payson,  and  the  whole  army  of  those,  at  home 
and  abroad,  who  are  this  day  owned  and  hailed  as  the  champions 
of  truth,  and  you  will  find  them  all,  without  exception,  to  have 
been  the  sons  of  pious  and  faithful  mothers.  NOT  is  it  only  from 
the  great  and  illustrious  in  the  Church  that  we  may  collect 
such  facts.  Look  around  you,  and  see  what  are  the  families 
from  which  religion  derives  its  most  devoted  and  faithful  friends. 
From  what  dwellings  come  the  sacramental  host  who  fill  the 
Lord's  table  when  it  is  spread,  and  not  only  there  confess  His  name 
before  men,  but  are  the  foremost  in  efforts  to  spread  His  name 
through  the  world  ?  Do  they  come  from  families  where  the  mother, 
though  she  may  rule  as  a  queen  of  fashion,  and  is  perhaps  rich  in 
every  worldly  endowment,  yet  loves  not  God,  and  finds  no  place 
for  him  in  her  heart  and  her  labors?  Far  from  it.  They 
come,  and  come  almost  exclusively,  from  households  where  tht 
mother  is  a  Christian ;  where  the  nursery  for  the  family  is  a  nursery 
for  the  church  ;  where  the  first  lispings  of  childhood  are  accents  oi 


A  MOTHER'S  INFLUENCE. 

prayer,  and  the  first  thoughts  of  the  heart  thoughts  of  God  aiid  of 

His  Christ. 

"  Just  as  the  twig  is  bent,  the  tree's  inclined." 

But  who  bends  the  twig?  Who  has  the  mind  or  character  in 
hand  while  it  is  yet  so  flexible  and  ductile  that  it  can  be  turned 
in  any  direction,  or  formed  in  any  shape?  It  is  the  mother. 
From  her  own  nature,  and  the  nature  of  her  child,  it  results  that 
its  first  impressions  must  be  taken  from  her.  And  she  has  every 
advantage  for  discharging  the  duty.  She  is  always  with  her  child 
— if  she  is  where  mothers  ought  to  be — sees  continually  the  work- 
ings of  faculties ;  where  they  need  to  be  restrained,  and  where  led 
and  attracted.  Early  as  she  may  begin  her  task,  let  her  be  assured, 
that  her  labor  will  not  be  lost  because  undertaken  too  soon. 
Mind,  from  the  first  hour  of  its  existence,  is  ever  acting ;  and  soon 
may  a  mother  see  that,  carefully  as  she  may  study  her  child,  quite 
as  carefully  is  her  child  studying  her.  Let  her  watch  the  varying 
expression  of  its  speaking  face,  as  its  eyes  follow  her,  and  she  will 
perceive  its  mind  is  imbibing  impressions  from  everything  it  sees 
her  do ;  and  thus  showing,  that,  before  the  lips  have  begun  to 
utter  words,  the  mind  has  begun  to  act,  and  to  form  a  character. 
Let  her  watch  om ;  and  when,  under  her  care,  the  expanding  facul- 
ties have  begun  to  display  themselves  in  the  sportiveness  of  play, 
how  often  will  she  be  surprised  to  find  the  elements  of  character 
already  fixed,  when  she  has  least  expected  it.  She  has  but  to  watch, 
and  she  will  find  the  embryo  tyrant  or  philanthropist,  warrior  or 
peace-maker,  with  her  in  her  nursery ;  and  then,  if  ever,  her  con- 
stant prayer  should  be,  "  How  shall  I  order  the  child,  and  what  shall 
I  do  unto  him  ?"  For,  what  he  is  to  be,  and  what  he  is  to  do,  in  any 
of  these  characters,  she  must  now  decide.  It  is  a  law  of  our  being 
that  makes  it  so ;  a  law  that  I  could  wish  were  written  on  every 
mother's  heart  by  the  finger  of  God,  and  on  the  walls  of  her  nursery 

40 


A  MOTHER'S  INFLUENCE. 

in  letters  of  gold,  that  the  mind  of  childhood  is  like  wax  to  receive, 
but  like  marble  to  hold,  every  impression  made  upon  it,  be  it  for 
good  or  for  evil.  Let  her  then  improve  her  power  as  she  ought, 
"being  steadfast,  unmovable,  always  abounding  in  the  work" 
wliich  God  requires  at  her  hands ;  and  let  her  know  that  her  labor 
is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  For,  even  though  her  own  eyes  may  not 
be  privileged  to  witness  in  her  child  all  that  is  noble  and  great  and 
good,  she  may  at  least  save  him  when  her  course  on  earth  is  finished. 
It  is  no  picture  of  the  imagination  that  I  hold  out,  when  I  ask  you  to 
come  and  see  the  son  of  a  faithful  mother,  who  has  long  pursued  his 
course  of  crime,  till  he  seems  hardened  against  everything  good  or 
true ;  yea,  at  times  "  sits  in  the  seat  of  the  scorner,"  and  scoffs  at 
everything  holy  and  good — but  yet,  hardened  and  dead  as  his  heart 
may  seem,  as  to  everything  else  you  may  urge,  there  is  one  point  on 
which,  till  his  dying  day,  he  can  be  made  to  feel.  You  touch  it 
when  you  remind  him  of  what  he  saw  and  felt  when  a  child  under 
the  care  of  a  tender  mother.  His  sensibilities  there  he  never  utterly 
loses ;  and  often,  often,  by  that,  as  the  last  cord  which  holds  him 
from  utter  perdition,  is  the  prodigal  drawn  back  and  restored;  so 
that,  though  "dead,  he  is  alive  again,"  though  once  "lost,  he  is 
found." 

Such  are  some  of  the  illustrations  of  a  mother's  power  to  do  good 
to  those  most  dear  to  her,  and  of  the  responsibility  that  springs  from 
it.  There  is  no  influence  so  powerful  as  hers  on  the  coming  destinies 
of  the  church  and  the  world.  She  acts  a  part  in  forming  the  minis 
ters  of  religion  and  the  rulers  of  the  land,  without  which  all  subse 
queut  training  is  comparatively  vain.  And  to  her,  also,  it  falls  to 
train  those  who  are  to  be  mothers  when  she  is  gone,  and  to  do  for 
their  generation  what  she  has  done  for  hers. 

41 


A  MOTHER'S  PBAYER. 

>HE  sweetest  sound  heard  through  our  earthly  home, 
The  brightest  ray  that  gleams  from  heaven's  dome, 
The  loveliest  flower  that  e'er  from  earth's  breast  rose, 
That  purest  flame  that,  quivering,  gleams  and  glows, 
Are  found  alone,  where  kneels  a  mother  mild, 
With  heart  uplifted,  praying  for  her  child. 

The  stream  of  tears  can  never  cease  to  flow 
Long  as  life's  sun  shall  shine  on  us  below ; 
And  many  angels  have  been  sent  by  God 
To  count  the  tear-drops  wept  upon  life's  road ; 
But  of  all  the  tears  that  flow,  the  least  defiled 
Are  when  a  mother  prays  beside  her  child. 

Because  it  is  to  mortal  eyes  unseen, 

Ye  call  it  foolishness,  a  childish  dream, 

In  vain,  ye  cannot  rob  me  of  that  thought, 

That  legend  with  such  heavenly  sweetness  fraught, 

That  blessed  angels  have  for  ages  smiled 

To  see  a  mother  praying  for  her  child. — Anonymous. 


FT  is  the  mother  who  moulds  the  character,  and  fixes  the  destiny 

r\-£  4-l»/i   nl^l/3 


of  the  child. 

42 


THE    MOTHER 

Thomas  Campldl. 
at  the  couch  where  infant  beauty  sleeps, 

Her  silent  watch  the  mournful  mother  keeps ; 

She,  while  the  lovely  babe  unconscious  lies, 
Smiles  on  her  slumbering  child  with  pensive  eyes, 
And  weaves  a  song  of  melancholy  joy, — 
"  Sleep,  image  of  thy  father,  sleep,  my  boy : 
No  lingering  hour  of  sorrow  shall  be  thine  ; 
No  sigh  that  rends  thy  father  s  heart  and  mine ; 
Bright  as  his  manly  sire  the  son  shall  be 
In  form  and  soul ;  but  ah  !  more  blest  than  he  ! 
Thy  fame,  thy  worth,  thy  filial  love,  at  last, 
Shall  soothe  this  aching  heart  for  all  the  past, 
With  many  a  smile  my  solitude  repay, 
And  chase  the  world's  ungenerous  scorn  away. 

"  And  say,  when  summoned  from  the  world  and  thee, 

I  lay  my  head  beneath  the  willow-tree, 

Wilt  thou,  sweet  mourner !  at  my  stone  appear, 

And  soothe  my  parted  spirit  lingering  near  ? 

Oh,  wilt  thou  come,  at  evening  hour,  to  shed 

The  tears  of  memory  o'er  my  narrow  bed  ; 

With  aching  temple  on  thy  hand  reclined, 

Muse  on  the  last  farewell  I  leave  behind, 

Breathe  a  deep  sigh  to  winds  that  murmur  low, 

And  think  on  all  my  love,  and  all  my  woe  ?  " 

So  speaks  affection,  ere  the  infant  eye 
Can  look  regard,  or  brighten  in  reply, 

43 


TIBED    MOTHERS. 

But  when  the  cherub  lip  hath  learnt  to  claim 
A  mother's  ear  by  that  endearing  name  ; 
Soon  as  the  playful  innocent  can  prove 
A  tear  of  pity,  or  a  smile  of  love, 
Or  cons  his  murmuring  tasks  beneath  her  care, 
Or  lisps,  with  holy  look,  his  evening  prayer, 
Or  gazing  mutely  pensive,  sits  to  hear 
The  mournful  ballad  warbled  in  his  ear ; 
How  fondly  looks  admiring  hope  the  while, 
At  every  artless  tear,  and  every  smile  ! 
How  glows  the  joyous  parent  to  descry 
A  guileless  bosom,  true  to  sympathy  1 


TIKED   MOTHEES. 

Mrs.  May  Rilty  Smith. 
LITTLE  elbow  leans  upon  your  knee — 

Your  tired  knee  that  has  so  much  to  bear ; 
A  child's  dear  eyes  are  looking  lovingly 
From  underneath  a  thatch  of  tangled  hair. 
Perhaps  you  do  not  heed  the  velvet  touch 

Of  warm,  moist  fingers  holding  you  so  tight ; 
You  do  not  prize  the  blessing  overmuch — 
You  almost  are  too  tired  to  pray  to-night. 

But  it  is  blessedness !     A  year  ago 

I  did  not  see  it  as  I  do  to-day — 
We  are  all  so  dull  and  thankless,  and  too  slow 

To  catch  the  sunshine  till  it  slips  away. 
44 


TIRED     MOTHERS. 

And  now  it  seems  surpassing  strange  to  me 
That  while  I  wore  the  badge  of  motherhood 

I  did  not  kiss  more  oft  and  tenderly 

The  little  child  that  brought  me  only  good. 

And  if,  some  night,  when  you  sit  down  to  rest, 

You  miss  the  elbow  from  your  tired  knee ; 
This  restless  curly  head  from  off  your  breast ; 

This  lisping  tongue  that  chatters  constantly ; 
If  from  your  own,  the  dimpled  hands  had  slipped, 

And  ne'er  would  nestle  in  your  palm  again  ; 
If  the  white  feet  into  the  grave  had  tripped — 

I  could  not  blame  you  for  your  heartache  then. 

I  wonder  so  that  mothers  ever  fret 

At  their  little  children  clinging  to  their  gowns ; 
Or  that  the  foot-prints,  when  the  days  are  wet, 

Are  ever  black  enough  to  make  them  frown  I 
If  I  could  find  a  little  muddy  boot, 

Or  cap,  or  jacket,  on  my  chamber  floor — 
If  I  could  kiss  a  rosy,  restless  foot, 

And  hear  it  patter  in  my  house  once  more ; 

If  I  could  mend  a  broken  cart  to-day, 

To-morrow  make  a  kite  to  reach  the  sky — 
There  is  no  woman  in  God's  world  could  say 

She  was  more  blissfully  content  than  I ! 
But,  ah,  the  dainty  pillow  next  mine  own 

Is  never  rumpled  by  a  shining  head, 
My  singing  birdling  from  its  nest  has  flown — 

The  little  boy  I  used  to  kiss — is  dead ! 


43 


MOTHERS    OF   DISTINGUISHED   MEN. 

>IMOTHY,  from  a  child,  knew  the  Scriptures,  being  taugLc 
them  by  his  mother  and  his  grandmother. 

Dr.  Dodridge's  mother  taught  him  the  history  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments  before  he  could  read.  This  was  done  by 
means  of  Dutch  tiles  in  the  chimney.  Her  wise  and  pious  reflec- 
tions upon  the  stories  there  represented,  made  good  impression  on 
his  mind ;  and  he  never  lost  them. 

Bishop  Hall  says  that  he  could  bless  the  memory  of  his  mother, 
who  taught  him  so  much  divine  truth,  and  gave  him  so  many  pious 
lectures. 

J.  S.  C.  Abbott  says  in  his  "  Mother  at  Home,"  that  in  a  college 
where  one  hundred  and  twenty  young  men  were  preparing  for  the 
ministry,  it  was  found  that  more  than  one  hundred  had  been  led  to 
Christ  by  their  mothers. 

John  Randolph,  of  Roanoke,  was  deeply  attached  to  his  mother, 
and  her  death  had  a  melancholy  and  striking  effect  upon  him  ever 
afterwards.  She  was  but  thirty-six  years  old  when  she  died.  Cut 
off  in  the  bloom  of  youth  and  beauty,  he  always  retained  a  vivid 
remembrance  of  her  person,  her  charms,  and  her  virtues.  He 
always  kept  her  portrait  hanging  before  him  in  his  chamber.  The 
loss  to  him  was  irreparable.  She  knew  him — she  knew  the  delicacy 
©f  his  heart,  the  waywardness  and  irritability  of  his  temper.  "1 
am  a  fatalist,"  said  he,  "  I  am  all  but  friendless — only  one  human 
being  ever  knew  me.  She  only  knew  me — my  mother."  He 
always  spoke  of  her  in  terms  of  the  warmest  affection.  Many  anU 


MOTHERS    OF    DISTINGUISHED    MEK. 

many  a  time  during  Ms  life  did  he  visit  the  old  churchyard  at 
Matoax,  in  its  wasted  solitude,  and  shed  tears  over  the  grave  of  his 
mother,  by  whose  side  it  was  the  last  wish  of  his  heart  to  be  buried. 

Henry  Clay,  the  pride  and  honor  of  his  country,  always  ex- 
pressed feelings  of  profound  affection  and  veneration  for  his  mother. 
A  habitual  correspondence  and  enduring  affection  subsisted  between 
them  to  the  last  hour  of  life.  Mr.  Clay  ever  spoke  of  her  as  a  model 
of  maternal  character  and  female  excellence,  and  it  is  said  that  he 
never  met  his  constituents  in  Woodford  county,  after  her  death, 
without  some  allusion  to  her,  which  deeply  affected  both  him  and  his 
audience.  And  nearly  the  last  words  uttered  by  this  great  states- 
man, when  he  came  to  die,  were,  "  Mother,  mother,  mother."  It  is 
natural  for  us  to  feel  that  she  must  have  been  a  good  mother,  that 
was  loved  and  so  dutifully  served  by  such  a  boy,  and  that  neither 
could  have  been  wanting  in  rare  virtues. 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  accustomed  to  refer  to  his  mother  in  the 
tenderest  tone  of  filial  affection.  His  respect  and  affection  for  her 
were  manifested,  among  other  ways,  in  frequent  presents,  that  con- 
tributed to  her  comfort  and  solace  in  her  advancing  years.  In  one 
of  his  letters  to  her,  for  example,  he  sends  her  a  moidore,  a  gold 
piece  ®f  the  value  of  six  dollars,  "  toward  chaise  hire,"  said  he,  "  that 
you  may  ride  warm  to  meetings  during  the  winter."  In  another  he 
gives  her  an  account  of  the  growth  and  improvement  of  his  son  and 
daughter — topics  which,  as  he  well  understood,  are  ever  as  dear  to 
the  grandmother  as  to  the  mother. 

Thomas  Gray,  author  of  "  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard,"  was 
most  assiduous  in  his  attentions  to  his  mother  while  she  lived,  and, 
after  her  death,  he  cherished  her  memory  with  sacred  sorrow.  Mr. 
Mason  informs  us  that  Gray  seldom  mentioned  his  mother  without 
a  sigh.  The  inscription  which  he  placed  over  her  remains  speaks  of 
her  as  "  the  careful,  tender  mother  of  many  children,  one  of  whom 

47 


MOTHERS    OF    DISTINGUISHED    MEN. 

alone  had  the  misfortune  to  survive  her."  How  touching  is  this 
brief  tribute  of  grateful  love !  Volumes  of  eulogy  could  not  increase 
our  admiration  of  the  gentle  being  to  whom  it  was  paid — her  patient 
devotion,  her  meek  endurance.  Wherever  the  name  and  genius  of 
Gray  are  known,  there  shall  also  his  mother's  virtues  be  told  for  a 
memorial  of  her.  He  was  buried,  according  to  his  directions,  by  the 
eide  of  his  mother,  in  the  churchyard  at  Stoke.  After  his  death  her 
gowns  and  wearing  apparel  were  found  in  a  trunk  in  his  apartments, 
just  as  she  had  left  them.  It  seemed  as  if  he  could  never  take  tho 
resolution  to  open  it,  in  order  to  distribute  them  to  his  female  rela- 
tions, to  whom,  by  his  will,  he  bequeathed  them. 

Amos  Lawrence  always  spoke  of  his  mother  in  the  strongest  terms 
of  veneration  and  love,  and  in  many  letters  to  his  children  and 
grandchildren,  are  found  messages  of  affectionate  regard  for  his 
mother,  such  as  could  have  emanated  only  from  a  heart  overflowing 
with  filial  gratitude.  Her  form,  bending  over  his  bed  in  silent 
prayer,  at  the  hour  of  twilight,  when  she  was  about  leaving  him  for 
the  night,  was  among  the  earliest  and  most  cherished  recollections  of 
his  early  years  and  his  childhood's  home. 

SEBGKAOT  S.  PKENTISS. — From  his  mother  Mr.  Prentiss  inherited 
those  more  gentle  qualities  that  ever  characterized  his  life — qualities 
that  shed  over  his  eloquence  such  bewitching  sweetness,  and  gave  to 
rjs  social  intercourse  such  an  indescribable  charm.  A  remarkably 
characteristic  anecdote  illustrates  his  filial  affection.  When  on  a 
visit,  some  years  ago,  to  the  North,  but  after  his  reputation  had 
become  wide-spread,  a  distinguished  lady,  of  Portland,  Me.,  took 
pains  to  obtain  an  introduction,  by  visiting  the  steamboat  in  whicn 
she  learned  he  was  to  take  his  departure  in  a  few  moments. 

"  I  have  wished  to  see  you,"  said  she  to  Mr.  Prentiss,  "  for  iny 
heart  has  often  congratulated  the  mother  who  has  such  a  son." 
"Rather  congratulate  the  son  on  having  such  a  mother"  was  hit 

48 


MOTHERS    OF    DISTINGUISHED    MEN. 

instant  and  heartfelt  reply.  This  is  but  one  of  the  many  instances  in 
which  the  most  distinguished  men  of  all  ages  have  been  proud  to 
refer  to  the  early  culture  of  intellect,  the  promptings  of  virtue,  or 
the  aspirations  of  piety,  and  to  the  influence  of  the  mother's  early 
training. 

FKAKCIS  MABION. — General  Marion  was  once  a  plodding  young 
farmer,  and  in  no  way  distinguished  as  superior  to  the  young  men  of 
the  neighborhood  in  which  he  lived,  except  for  his  devoted  love  and 
marked  respect  for  his  excellent  mother,  and  exemplary  honor  and 
truthfulness.  In  these  qualities  he  was  eminent  from  early  child- 
hood, and  they  marked  his  character  through  life.  We  may  remark, 
in  this  connection,  that  it  is  usual  to  affect  some  degree  of  astonish- 
ment when  we  read  of  men  whose  after  fame  presents  a  striking 
contrast  to  the  humility  of  their  origin ;  yet  we  must  recollect  that  it 
is  not  ancestry  and  splendid  descent,  but  education  and  circumstances, 
which  form  the  man.  It  is  often  a  matter  of  surprise  that  distin- 
guished men  have  such  inferior  children,  and  that  a  great  name  is 
seldom  perpetuated.  The  secret  of  this  is  as  often  evident:  the 
mothers  have  been  inferior — mere  ciphers  in  the  scale  of  existence. 
All  the  splendid  advantages  procured  by  wealth  and  the  father's 
position,  cannot  supply  this  one  deficiency  in  the  mother,  who  gives 
character  to  the  child. 

Sam  Houston's  mother  was  an  extraordinary  woman.  She  was 
distinguished  by  a  full,  rather  tall  and  matronly  form,  a  fine  carriage, 
and  an  impressive  and  dignified  countenance.  She  was  gifted  with 
intellectual  and  moral  qualities,  which  elevated  her,  in  a  still  more 
striking  manner,  above  most  of  her  sex.  Her  life  shone  with  purity 
and  benevolence,  and  yet  she  was  nerved  with  a  stern  fortitude, 
which  never  gave  way  in  the  midst  of  the  wild  scenes  that  checkered 
the  history  of  tke  frontier  settlers.  Mrs.  Houston  was  left  with  the 
heavy  burden  of  a  numerous  family.  She  had  six  sons  and  three 
D  49 


MOTHEBS    AND    SONS. 

daughters,  but  she  was  not  a  woman  to  succumb  to  misfortune,  and 
she  made  ample  provision,  for  one  in  her  circumstances,  for  their 
future  care  and  education.  To  bring  up  a  large  family  of  children 
in  a  proper  manner  is,  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  a 
great  work  ;  and  in  this  case  it  rises  into  sublimity  ;  for  there  is  no 
finer  instance  of  heroism  than  that  of  one  parent,  especially  a  mother, 
laboring  for  that  end  alone.  The  excellent  woman,  says  Goethe,  is 
she  who,  if  her  husband  dies,  can  be  a  father  to  her  children. 

As  wife  and  mother,  a  woman  is  seen  in  her  most  sacred  and 
dignified  character,  as  such  she  has  great  influence  over  the  characters 
of  individuals,  over  the  condition  of  families,  and  over  the  destinies 
of  empires.  It  is  a  fact  that  many  of  our  noblest  patriots,  our  most 
profound  scholars,  and  our  holiest  ministers,  were  stimulated  to  their 
excellence  and  usefulness  by  those  holy  principles  which  they  derived 
in  early  years  from  pious  mothers. 

Our  mothers  are  our  earliest  instructors,  and  they  have  an  influ- 
ence over  us,  the  importance  of  which,  for  time  and  eternity, 
surpasses  the  power  of  language  to  describe. 

Every  mother  should  be  a  Sabbath  School  teacher.  Her  own 
children  should  be  her  class;  and  her  home  should  be  her  school- 
house.  Then  her  children  will  bless  her  for  her  tenderness  and  care ; 
for  her  pious  instructions,  her  fervent  prayers,  and  the  holy  exam- 
ple.—Anonymous. 


MOTHERS    AND    SONS. 

OST  boys  go  through  a  period,  when  they  have  great  need  of 
patient  love  at  home.  They  are  awkward  and  clumsy, 
sometimes  strangely  willful  and  perverse,  and  they  are  des- 

50 


MOTHERS     AND    SONS. 

perately  conscious  of  themselves,  and  very  sensitive  to  the  least  word 
of  censure  or  effort  at  restraint.  Authority  frets  them.  They  are 
leaving  childhood,  but  they  have  not  yet  reached  the  sober  good  sense 
of  manhood.  They  are  an  easy  prey  to  the  tempter  and  the  sophist. 
Perhaps  they  adopt  skeptical  views,  from  she^r  desire  to  prove  that 
they  are  independent,  and  can  do  their  own  thinking.  Now  is  the 
mother's  hour.  Her  boy  needs  her  now  more  than  when  he  lay  in  his 
cradle.  Her  finer  insight  and  serener  faith  may  hold  him  fast,  and 
prevent  his  drifting  into  dangerous  courses.  At  all  events  there  is 
very  much  that  only  a  mother  can  do  for  her  son,  and  that  a  son  can 
receive  only  from  his  mother,  in  the  critical  period  of  which  we  are 
thinking.  It  is  well  for  him,  if  she  have  kept  the  freshness  and 
brightness  of  her  youth,  so  that  she  can  now  be  his  companion  and 
friend  as  well  as  mentor.  It  is  a  good  thing  for  a  boy  to  be  proud 
of  his  mother ;  to  feel  complacent  when  he  introduces  her  to  his 
comrades,  knowing  that  they  cannot  help  seeing  'what  a  pretty 
woman  she  is,  so  graceful,  winsome,  and  attractive  !  There  is  always 
hope  for  a  boy  when  he  admires  his  mother,  and  mothers  should 
care  to  be  admirable  in  the  eyes  of  their  sons.  Not  merely  to  pos- 
sess characters  which  are  worthy  of  respect,  but  to  be  beautiful  and 
charming,  so  far  as  they  can,  in  person  and  appearance.  The  neat 
dress,  the  becoming  ribbon,  and  smooth  hair  are  all  worth  thinking 
about,  when  regarded  as  means  of  retaining  influence  over  a  soul, 
when  the  world  is  spreading  lures  for  it  on  every  side. 

Above  all  things,  mothers  need  faith.  Genuine,  hearty,  loving 
trust  in  God,  a  life  of  meek,  glad  acquiescence  in  His  will,  lived 
daily  through  years  in  the  presence  of  sons,  is  an  immense  power. 
They  never  can  get  away  from  the  sweet  memory  that  Christ  was 
their  mother's  friend.  There  is  a  reality  in  that  which  no  false  rea- 
loning  can  persuade  them  to  regard  as  a  figment  of  the  imagination. 
—Christian,  Intelligencer. 

51 


THE   MOTHER'S    PRAYER. 

§UT  in  the  wide  world,  somewhere  roaming. 
In  the  misty  chill  of  this  twilight  gloaming. 
Homeless  and  friendless,  with  only  the  care 
Which  Heaven  provides  for  the  birds  of  the  air ; 
"Without  shelter  or  bread, 
Only  sad  stars  overhead, 

And  a  heart  overwhelmed  with  devouring  despair— 
Out  in  the  wide  world  somewhere — somewhere. 

With  garments  all  tattered,  and  filthy,  and  worn  ; 
With  feet  that  are  blistered,  and  shoes  that  are  torn  ; 
With  eyes  that  are  heavy,  and  drooping,  and  dim  ; 
And  a  heart  that  is  vailed  in  the  dust  of  his  sin, 
Besmeared  with  the  slime 
Of  evil  and  crime, 

You  would  not  think  it,  but  down  deep  within, 
A  door  stands  ajar,  and  you  may  go  in. 

In  the  bygone  hours  of  the  old  long  ago, 
^Before  the  winter  of  vice,  with  its  ice  and  its  snow, 
Had  chilled  that  faint  heart,  I  once  held  the  key — 
This  object  of  pity  once  sat  on  my  knee  ; 
I  smoothed  the  fair  head, 
And  kissed  the  lips,  so  red  ; 
O,  cruel  the  hand  that  has  taken  from  me 
This  gem  from  my  heart-life's  sad  mystery ! 
52 


A  MOTHER'S   LOVE. 

O,  wide  world  so  mighty,  so  vast,  and  so  old  1 

O,  wide  world  so  heartless,  unfriendly,  and  cold  ! 

Despise  not  this  wretch,  for  once  he  was  fair 

As  the  jewel  which  decks  the  young  maiden's  hair. 

O,  rescue  this  one, 

For  he  is  my  son, 

And  God  hath  forgotten  a  mother's  prayer, 

As  it  wanders  world-wide  somewhere — somewhere. 

Rum,  the  accursed,  which  evermore  brings 

Its  withering  woe  to  peasant  and  kings, 

Hath  blighted  this  life,  so  gifted  and  rare, 

And  left  it  a  wreck,  unsightly  and  bare. 

While  loving  hearts  must  ache, 

And  sometimes  break, 

Will  Heaven  not  heed  importunate  prayer  ? 

And  rescue  the  wandering  sometime — somewhere  f 

— Anonymous. 


A  MOTHEK'S  LOVE. 

James  Montgomery. 

MOTHEK'S  love,  how  sweet  the  name ! 
What  is  a  mother's  love  ? 
A  noble,  pure  and  tender  flame, 
Enkindled  from  above, 
To  bless  a  heart  of  earthly  mould ; 
The  warmest  love  that  ccm  grow  cold ; 
This  is  a  mother's  love. 
53 


THE    MOTHER'S    OPPORTUNITY. 

'OTHERS,  you  are  the  divinely-appointed  teachers  and  guides 
of  your  children ;  and  any  attempt  to  free  yourselves  from 
your  duty  is  in  direct  opposition  to  the  will  of  God.  If  you 
neglect  them,  the  consequences  are  swift  and  sure,  and  how  fearful 
thoy  are,  let  those  broken-hearted  mothers  tell  who  have  bowed  in 
anguish  over  their  lost  sons;  who,  neglecting  them  in  childhood, 
have  at  last  seen  them  dead  to  every  manly  virtue. 

Let  me  say  to  you  who  still  have  the  opportunity  to  do  so,  train 
your  children,  whether  boys  or  girls,  to  usefulness.  Give  them 
something  to  do.  And  as  soon  as  they  can  walk,  teach  them  to 
bring  any  little  thing  to  you,  and  as  they  grow  older  let  them  do  all 
they  can  to  help  you.  Spend  most  of  your  time  with  your  young 
children.  Sleep  near  them ;  attend  to  washing  and  dressing  them ; 
let  them  eat  at  the  table  with  father  and  mother ;  read,  talk,  play, 
walk  with  them ;  be  their  companion  and  guide  in  all  things  and  at 
all  times.  When  the  father  can  leave  his  work  to  take  a  little  recre- 
ation, let  him  take  it  with  the  children,  making  it  a  special  holiday. 
Don't  be  in  haste  to  send  them  to  school,  but  teach  them  at  home. 
Oral  instruction  can  be  given  while  you  are  doing  your  work,  and 
for  a  while  will  be  of  much  more  benefit  than  many  hours  of  study. 
As  soon  as  they  want  playmates,  see  that  they  have  those  of  their 
own  age,  who  have  been  well  cared  for  at  home,  and  are  truthful. 
Let  them  play  in  or  near  the  house,  that  you  may  observe  the  char- 
acter of  their  intercourse.  Never  send  children  to  school  to  get  rid 
of  the  care  or  trouble  of  them  at  home,  but  when  the  right  time 
comes,  let  them  see  that  it  is  wholly  for  their  good  that  you  part 

64 


THE  MOTHER'S  OPPORTUNITY. 

with  them.  If  possible,  go  often  to  the  school-room  yourself — 
nothing  gives  children  so  much  encouragement.  Always  allow  them 
to  tell  you  all  that  has  happened  to  interest  or  annoy  them  while 
absent  from  home.  Never  think  anything  which  affects  the  happi- 
ness of  your  children  too  small  a  matter  to  claim  your  attention. 
Use  every  means  in  your  power  to  win  and  retain  their  confidence 
Do  not  rest  satisfied  without  some  account  of  each  day's  joys  or 
sorrows.  It  is  a  source  of  great  comfort  to  the  innocent  child  to  tell 
all  its  troubles  to  mother,  and  do  you  lend  a  willing  ear.  For  know 
you,  that  as  soon  as  they  cease  to  tell  you  all  these  things,  they  have 
chosen  other  confidants,  and  therein  lies  the  danger.  O  mother! 
this  is  the  rock  on  which  your  son  may  be  wrecked  at  last.  I  charge 
you  to  set  a  watch  upon  it.  Be  jealous  of  the  first  sign  that  he  is 
not  opening  all  his  heart  to  you. 

Boys  who  are  thus  cared  for  and  trained  find  more  to  please  and 
amuse  them  at  home  than  away.  They  are  thus  saved  from  tempta- 
tion. But  if  they  are  neglected  until  they  arrive  at  the  age  when 
they  would  wish  to  go  out  evenings,  there  is  small  hope  that  any  but 
arbitrary  measures  will  prevent  or  secure  obedience,  and  then  it 
hardly  can  be  called  obedience.  It  is  much  more  pleasant  to  apply 
the  "  ounce  of  prevention  "  than  the  "  pound  of  cure  "  in  such  cases. 
When  boys  know  that  their  society  is  valued  highly  at  home,  and 
that  all  its  pleasures  are  marred  by  their  absence,  they  will  willingly 
stay  if  they  can  have  something  to  occupy  their  time. — Anonymous. 


OOME  hearts,  like  evening  primroses,  open  most  beautifully  in 
the  evening  of  life. 

55 


MOTHEKS,  PUT    TOUR    CHILDREN    TO    BED. 

XHERE  may  be  some  mothers  who  feel  it  to  be  a  self-denial  to 
leave  their  parlors,  or  fire-sides,  or  work,  to  put  their  children 
to  bed.  They  think  that  the  nurse  could  do  just  as  well ; 
that  it  is  of  no  consequence  who  "hears  the  children  say  their 
prayers.''  Now,  setting  aside  the  pleasure  of  opening  the  little  bed 
and  tucking  the  darling  up,  there  are  really  important  reasons  why 
the  mother  should  not  yield  this  privilege  to  any  one.  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  the  time  of  all  times  when  a  child  is  inclined  to  show  its 
confidence  and  affection.  All  its  little  secrets  come  out  with  more 
truth  and  less  restraints ;  its  naughtiness  through  the  day  can  be 
reproved  and  talked  over  with  less  excitement,  and  with  the  tender- 
ness and  calmness  necessary  to  make  a  permanent  impression.  If 
the  little  one  has  shown  a  desire  to  do  well  and  be  obedient,  its 
efforts  and  success  can  be  acknowledged  and  commended  in  a  manner 
that  need  not  render  it  vain  or  self-satisfied. 

We  must  make  it  a  habit  to  talk  to  our  children,  in  order  to  get 
from  them  an  expression  of  their  feelings.  "We  cannot  understand 
the  character  of  these  little  beings  committed  to  our  care  unless  we 
do.  And  if  we  do  not  know  what  they  are,  we  shall  not  be  able  to 
govern  them  wisely,  or  educate  them  as  their  different  natures 
demand.  Certainly  it  would  be  unwise  to  excite  young  children  by 
too  much  conversation  with  them  just  before  putting  them  to  bed. 

Every  mother  who  carefully  studies  the  temperament  of  her  chil- 
dren will  know  how  to  manage  them  in  this  respect.  But  of  this  all 
mothers  may  be  assured,  that  the  laa^  words  at  night  are  of  great 

56 


THE    GOOD-NIGHT    KISS. 

importance,  even  to  the  babies  of  the  flock ;  the  very  tones  of  the 
voice  they  last  listened  to  make  an  impression  upon  their  sensitive 
organizations.  Mothers,  do  not  think  the  time  and  strength  wasted, 
which  you  spend  in  reviewing  the  day  with  your  little  boy  or  girl ; 
do  not  neglect  to  teach  it  how  to  pray,  and  pray  for  it  in  simple  and 
earnest  language,  which  it  can  understand.  Soothe  and  quiet  its 
little  heart  after  the  experiences  of  the  day.  It  has  had  its  disap- 
pointments and  trials  as  well  as  its  play  and  pleasures ;  it  is  ready  to 
throw  its  arms  around  your  neck,  and  take  its  good-night  kiss. — 
Mother's  Magazine. 


THE    GOOD-NIGHT    KISS. 

LWAYS  send  your  little  child  to  bed  happy.  Whatever  c-ares 
may  trouble  your  mind,  give  the  dear  child  a  warm  good- 
night kiss  as  it  goes  to  its  pillow.  The  memory  of  this,  in  the 
stormy  years  which  may  be  in  store  for  the  little  one,  will  be  like 
Bethlehem's  star  to  the  bewildered  shepherds ;  and  welling  up  in  the 
heart  will  rise  the  thought :  "  My  father,  my  mother — loved  me  /" 
Lips  parched  with  fever  will  become  dewy  again  at  this  thrill  of 
useful  memories.  Boss  your  little  child  before  it  goes  to  sleep. 

— Anonymous. 


A    GOOD  word  is  an  easy  obligation;  but  not  to  speak  ill,  require* 
only  our  silence,  which  costs  us  nothing. — Tittotson. 

57 


MOTHEK  AND  CHILD. 

Thomas  Hood. 
thy  mother,  little  one  1 
Boss  and  clasp  her  neck  again  1 
Hereafter  she  may  have  a  son 
Will  kiss  and  clasp  her  neck  in  rain. 
Love  thy  mother,  little  one  1 

Gaze  upon  her  living  eyes, 
And  mirror  back  her  love  for  thee ! 
Hereafter  thou  may'st  shudder  sighs 
To  meet  them  when  they  cannot  see. 
Gaze  upon  her  living  eyes  1 

Press  her  lips  the  while  they  glow 
With  love  that  they  have  often  told  1 
Hereafter  thou  may'st  press  in  woe, 
And  kiss  them  till  thine  own  are  cold. 

Press  her  lips  the  while  they  glow  1 

Oh,  revere  her  raven  hair — 
Although  it  be  not  silver  gray  ! 
Too  early,  death,  led  on  by  care, 
May  snatch  save  one  dear  lock  away. 
Oh,  revere  her  raven  hair  1 

Pray  for  her  at  eve  and  morn, 
That  Heaven  may  long  the  stroke  defer ; 
For  Thou  may'st  live  the  hour  forlorn, 
When  thou  wilt  ask  to  die  with  her. 

Pray  for  her  at  eve  and  morn ! 
68 


OUE    MOTHER 

§UK  mother's  lost  her  youthfulness. 
• 
Her  locks  are  turning  gray, 
And  wrinkles  take  the  place  of  smiles - 

She's  fading  every  day. 
We  gaze  at  her  in  sorrow  now, 

For  though  we've  ne'er  been  told 
We  can  but  feel  the  weary  truth — 
Our  mother's  growing  old. 

Our  mother's  lost  her  youthfulness, 

Her  eyes  grow  dim  with  tears, 
Yet  still  within  her  heart  there  shines 

Some  light  of  other  years  ; 
For  oft  she'll  speak  in  merry  tones, 

Smile  as  in  youth  she  smiled, 
As  o'er  her  heart  some  memory  steals 

Of  when  she  was  a  child. 

Our  mother's  lost  her  youthfulness, 

The  light  step  has  grown  slow, 
The  graceful  form  has  learned  to  stoop, 

The  bright  cheek  lost  its  glow. 
Her  weary  hands  have  grown  so  thin, 

Her  dear  hand  trembles  now ; 
"  Passing  away,"  in  sad,  deep  lines, 

Is  traced  upon  her  brow. 
59 


OUR    MOTHEB. 

Our  mother's  lost  her  youthfulness, 

Her  smiles  are  just  as  kind, 
IJer  tones  to  us  are  soft  as  erst, — 

Where  should  we  dearer  find  ? 
But  as  we  note  the  trembling  tongue, 

And  mark  the  stooping  form, 
A  sad  voice  whispers  to  our  hearts, — 

"  Ye  cannot  keep  her  long." 

Our  mother's  lost  her  youthfulness, 

We  see  it  every  day, 
And  feel  more  drearily  the  truth, 

She  soon  must  pass  away. 
Ah  !  even  now  the  "  boatman  pale  " 

We  fear  is  hovering  nigh ; 
Waiting  with  white  sails  all  unfurled, 

He  will  not  heed  our  cry. 

But  gently  bear  the  wearied  form 

Into  the  phantom  bark, 
She  will  not  fear — CHRIST  went  before, 

The  way  will  not  be  dark : 
And  safe  beyond  the  troubled  stream, 

Her  tired  heart's  strife  o'er, 
Our  angel  mother,  glorified, 

Will  grow  old  nevermore. 

— Rural  New  Yorker. 


that  day  lost  whose  low-descending  sun 
Views  from  thy  hand  no  worthy  action  done.' 


60 


PARENTAL   AUTHORITY. 

very  height  of  human  wickedness  is  described  in  the  Holy 
Book  as  "lawlessness."  Subjection  to  the  holy,  just,  and 
good  law  of  the  Most  High  God  is  the  essential  condition  of 
well-being  here,  and  the  essential  element  of  glory  hereafter.  In 
keeping  with  this,  human  beings  come  into  this  world  in  a  state  of 
dependence  and  subjection,  and  for  about  one-half  of  the  average 
term  of  human  life  that  is  their  proper  and  natural  state. 

I  cannot  doubt  that  the  great  idea  of  the  long  pupilage  of  man  is 
just  that  the  principle  and  habit  of  obedience,  of  submission  to 
authority,  may  be  wrought  into  his  inmost  nature — that,  taught  to 
obey  an  earthly  parent,  even  from  infancy,  he  may  pass  from  sub- 
jection to  the  earthly  father  to  subjection  to  the  heavenly  one. 
Reverent  obedience  of  the  child  to  parents  is  the  preparation  for 
reverent  obedience  of  the  man  to  God.  The  one  is  the  stepping- 
stone  to  the  other.  It  is  asked  in  the  Epistle  of  John,  "  If  a  man 
love  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God  whom 
he  hath  not  seen?"  In  the  same  spirit  and  with  at  least  equal 
emphasis  it  may  be  asked,  "  If  a  child  honor  not  the  father  whom 
he  hath  seen,  how  shall  he  honor  his  Father  whom  he  hath  not 
seen  ?"  There  is  rebellion  against  God  in  our  inmost  nature.  Well, 
train  up  a  child  in  willfulness  and  insubordination,  and  what  must 
you  expect  as  the  result  of  nature's  tendencies  and  such  a  training 
commingled. 

Law  is  everywhere  here.  There  is  law  in  the  Bible.  There  is 
law  in  our  souls.  There  are  laws  written  with  a  pen  of  iron  upon 

61 


PABENTAL     AUTHORITY. 

our  bodily  frames.  There  are  laws  upon  earth  and  sky — and  to 
send  forth  from  your  home  a  lawless  creature,  is  to  send  forth  a 
blind  man  to  walk  among  pitfalls  and  precipices,  to  offer  up  an 
immortal  nature  to  the  god  of  misrule. 

In  a  religious  point  of  view  it  seems  to  me  just  of  the  last 
importance  that  the  parent  should  exercise  over  his  children  a 
sovereign  authority.  There  must  be  no  permitted  resistance  to  his 
will.  Obedience  must  be  the  primary  law  of  the  family.  Does  this 
have  a  sound  of  harshness?  But  it  is  the  Bible  way!  The  con- 
fidence in  regard  to  Abraham  was  that  he  would  commcmd  his 
children  after  him.  Children  are  bidden  by  the  apostle  to  obey 
their  parents.  It  is  the  essential  requisite  of  a  ruler  in  God's  house 
that  he  should  be  able  to  rule  in  his  own  house,  having  his  children 
m  subjection.  And  authority  is  not  tyranny.  As  the  authority  of 
God  is  not  tyranny,  neither  is  the  authority  of  a  parent,  rightly  used. 
If  it  is  rightly  used,  it  will  be  used  under  the  feeling  of  tender  love 
and  affectionate  interest. .  The  children  themselves  will  more  and 
more  come  to  feel  that;  and  feeling  it,  to  render  a  willing  and 
cheerful  obedience  to  it.  We  parents  should  rule  in  love — in 
Christian  love — BUT  WE  SHOULD  KULE. 

Parental  authority,  like  all  authority,  needs  a  wise  hand  to  wield 
it.  There  is  needed  especially  great  wisdom  in  the  exercise  of  it, 
when  the  boy  is  passing  into  the  man.  At  that  stage  of  human  life 
when  you  have  the  feeling  of  independence  beginning  to  come — 
when  you  have  so  often  the  passions  of  manhood  to  deal  with  with- 
out manhood's  checks  and  sense — no  one  can  tell  what  the  blessing  is 
of  having,  say,  a  father  to  whom  a  son  has  been  in  the  habit  of  look- 
ing with  submissive  reverence,  and  who  has  the  wisdom  to  use  his 
influence  aright. 

But  altogether,  we  may  depend  on  it  that  there  is  nothing  more 
ruinous  than  disobedience  allowed  in  our  little  ones.  I  may  even 

62 


COURTESIES   TO   PARENTS. 

venture  to  say,  that  it  is  great  cruelty  and  great  sin  in  us  to  permit 
it,  out  of,  it  may  be,  an  indolent  easiness  of  mind,  or  an  unwise  soft- 
ness of  disposition.  The  parent  is  to  rule  in  home,  the  world  of 
childhood,  as  the  Great  Parent  rules  in  the  world,  the  home  of  man- 
hood.— Mother's  Treasury. 


COUKTESIES    TO    PABENTS. 

lean  upon  their  children,  and  especially  their  sons, 
much  earlier  than  either  of  them  imagine.  Their  love  is  a 
constant  inspiration,  a  perennial  fountain  of  delight,  from 
which  other  lips  may  quaff,  and  be  comforted  thereby.  It  may  be 
that  the  mother  has  been  left  a  widow,  depending  on  her  only  son 
for  support.  He  gives  her  a  comfortable  home,  sees  that  she  is  well 
clad,  and  allows  no  debts  to  accumulate,  and  that  is  all.  It  is  con- 
siderable, more  even  than  many  sons  do,  but  there  is  a  lack.  He 
seldom  thinks  it  worth  while  to  give  her  a  caress  ;  he  has  forgotten 
all  those  affectionate  ways  that  kept  the  wrinkles  from  her  face,  and 
make  her  look  so  much  younger  than  her  years ;  he  is  ready  to  put 
his  hand  in  his  pocket  to  gratify  her  slightest  request,  but  to  give  of 
the  abundance  of  his  heart  is  another  thing  entirely.  He  loves  his 
mother  ?  Of  course  he  does !  Are  there  not  proofs  enough  of  his 
filial  regard  ?  Is  he  not  continually  making  sacrifices  for  her 
benefit  ?  What  more  could  any  reasonable  woman  ask  ? 

Ah,  but  it  is  the  mother-heart  that  craves  an  occasional  kiss,  the 
support  of  your  youthful  arm,  the  little  attentions  and  kindly  cour- 
tesies of  life,  that  smooth  down  so  many  of  its  asperities,  and  make 
the  journey  less  wearisome.  Material  aid  is  good  so  far  as  it  goes, 
but  it  has  not  that  sustaining  power  which  the  loving,  sympathetic 

63 


COURTESIES   TO   PARENTS. 

heart  bestows  upon  its  object.  You  think  she  has  out-grown  these 
weaknesses  and  f ollies,  and  is  content  with  the  crust  that  is  left ; 
but  you  are  mistaken.  Every  little  offer  of  attention,— your  escort 
to  church  or  concert,  or  for  a  quiet  walk,  brings  back  the  youth  of 
her  heart ;  her  cheeks  glow,  and  her  eyes  sparkle  with  pleasure,  and 
oh !  how  proud  she  is  of  her  son ! 

Even  the  father,  occupied  and  absorbed  as  he  may  be,  is  not 
wholly  indifferent  to  these  filial  expressions  of  devoted  love.  He 
may  pretend  to  care  very  little  for  them,  but  having  faith  in  their 
sincerity,  it  would  give  him  serious  pain  were  they  entirely  withheld. 
Fathers  need  their  sons  quite  as  much  as  the  sons  need  the  fathers, 
but  in  how  many  deplorable  instances  do  they  fail  to  find  in  them  a 
staff  for  their  declining  years ! 

My  son,  are  you  a  sweetener  of  life  ?  You  may  disappoint  the 
ambition  of  your  parents  ;  may  be  unable  to  distinguish  yourself  as 
they  fondly  hoped ;  may  find  your  intellectual  strength  inadequate 
to  your  own  desires,  but  let  none  of  these  things  move  you  from  a 
determination  to  be  a  son  of  whose  moral  character  they  need  never 
be  ashamed.  Begin  early  to  cultivate  a  habit  of  thoughtfulness  and 
consideration  for  others,  especially  for  those  whom  you  are  com- 
manded to  honor.  Can  you  begrudge  a  few  extra  steps  for  the 
mother  who  never  stopped  to  number  those  you  demanded  during 
your  helpless  infancy  ?  Have  you  the  heart  to  slight  her  requests,  or 
treat  her  remarks  with  indifference,  when  you  cannot  begin  to  meas- 
ure the  patient  devotion  with  which  she  bore  with  your  peculiarities  ? 
Anticipate  her  wants,  invite  her  confidence,  be  prompt  to  offer  assis- 
tance, express  your  affections  as  heartily  as  you  did  when  a  child, 
that  the  mother  may  never  grieve  in  secret  for  the  son  she  has  lost. 
— S.  S.  Times. 

64 


THE   MOTHER'S    CHARGE. 

Mrs  L.  H.  Sigourney. 
Jill)  say  to  mothers  what  a  hoi  j  charge 

Is  theirs ;  with  what  a  kingly  power  their  love 
Might  rule  the  fountains  of  the  new-born  mind. 
Warn  them  to  wake  at  early  dawn  and  sow 
Good  seed,  before  the  world  has  sown  its  tares. 


AUTHORITY    OF    PARENTS. 

Horace  Bushnell,  D.D. 

is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  what  will  make  a  child  stare 
or  tremble  impresses  more  authority.  The  violent  emphasis, 
the  hard,  stormy  voice,  the  menacing  air,  only  weaken  author- 
ity. Is  it  not  well  understood,  that  a  bawling  and  violent  teamster 
has  no  real  government  of  his  team  ?  Is  it  not  practically  seen  that 
a  skillful  commander  of  one  of  those  huge  floating  cities,  moved  by 
steam  on  our  American  waters,  manages  and  works  every  motion  by 
the  waving  of  the  hand,  or  by  signs  that  pass  in  silence,  issuing  no 
order  at  all,  save  in  the  gentlest  undertone  of  voice  ?  So  when  there 
is,  or  is  to  be,  a  real  order  in  the  house,  it  will  come  of  no  hard  and 
boisterous,  or  fretful  and  termagant  way  of  commanding.  Gentle- 
ness will  speak  the  word  of  firmness,  and  firmness  will  be  clothed  in 
that  of  true  gentleness. 

D  65 


THE  DYING  MOTHER. 

the  gem  upon  my  bosom. 
Let  me  feel  the  sweet,  warm  breath, 
For  a  strange  chill  o'er  me  passes, 

And  I  know  that  it  is  death. 
I  would  gaze  upon  the  treasure 

Scarcely  given  ere  I  go ; 
Feel  her  rosy,  dimpled  fingers 
Wander  o'er  my  cheek  of  snow. 

I  am  passing  through  the  waters, 

But  a  blessed  shore  appears ; 
Kneel  beside  me,  husband  dearest, 

Let  me  kiss  away  thy  tears. 
Wrestle  with  thy  grief,  my  husband, 

Strive  from  midnight  until  day, 
It  may  leave  as  angel's  blessing 

When  it  vanisheth  away. 

Lay  the  gem  upon  my  bosom, 

'Tis  not  long  she  can  be  there ; 
See  1  how  to  my  heart  she  nestles, 

'Tis  the  pearl  I  love  to  wear. 
If,  in  after  years,  beside  thee 

Sits  another  in  my  chair, 
Though  her  voice  be  sweeter  music, 

And  her  face  than  mine  more  fair ; 

If  a  cherub  calls  thee  "  father !" 
Far  more  beautiful  than  this ; 
66 


THE    DYING    MOTHER. 

Love  thy  first-born,  O  my  husband  J 

Turn  not  from  the  motherless. 
Tell  her  sometimes  of  her  mother — 

You  can  call  her  by  my  name ! 
Shield  her  from  the  winds  of  sorrow  r 

If  she  errs,  O  gently  blame ! 

Lead  her  sometimes  where  I'm  sleeping-, 

I  will  answer  if  she  calls, 
And  my  breath  shall  stir  her  ringlets, 

When  my  voice  in  blessing  falls ; 
Her  soft  black  eye  will  brighten, 

And  wonder  whence  it  came  ; 
In  her  heart,  when  years  pass  o'er  her, 

She  will  find  her  mother's  name. 

It  is  said  that  every  mortal 

"Walks  between  two  angels  here, 
One  records  the  ill,  but  blots  it 

If  before  the  midnight  drear 
Man  repenteth — if  uncancelled, 

Then  he  seals  it  for  the  skies ; 
And  her  right  hand  angel  weepeth, 

Bowing  low  with  veiled  eyes. 

I  will  be  her  right  hand  angel, 

Sealing  up  the  good  for  heaven, 
Striving  that  the  midnight  watches 

Find  no  misdeed  unforgiven. 
You  will  not  forget  me,  husband, 

When  I'm  sleeping  'neath  the  sod ; 
0,  love  the  jewel  given  us 

As  I  loved  thee — next  to  God ! — J.  A.  Dacu*. 
67 


RESPONSIBILITY    OF    PARENTS. 

T.  F.    W. 

>I[E  home  is  the  fountain  of  civilization.  Americans  are  a 
home-making  people.  Our  laws  are  made  in  the  home. 
There  are  trained  the  voters  who  shape  the  course  of  our 
country.  The  things  said  there  give  bias  to  character  far  more  than 
do  sermons  and  lectures,  newspapers  and  books.  No  other  audiences 
are  so  susceptible  and  receptive  as  those  gathered  about  the  table  and 
the  fireside.  No  other  teachers  have  the  acknowledged  divine  right 
to  instruct  that  is  granted  without  challenge  to  parents.  The  fount- 
ain of  our  national  life  is  under  their  hand.  They  can  make  it  send 
forth  waters  bitter  or  sweet,  for  the  death  or  the  healing  of  the 
people. 

Intemperance  strikes  first  and  most  fatally  at  the  home.  The 
evils  most  dangerous  to  social  order  depend  upon  dram-drinking  for 
their  existence.  This  too  is  the  scene  of  its  most  cruel  and  beastly 
devilisms.  Here  it  smites,  and  stabs,  and  kills.  The  home  must  be 
guarded  against  its  outrages,  or  the  country  will  be  ruined. 

The  best  work  against  intemperance  must  be  done  in  this  centei 
and  seat  of  power.  Parents  have  it  in  their  power  to  train  their 
children  to  abhor  that  which  is  evil  and  cleave  to  that  which  is 
good;  and  they  owe  them  this  duty.  They  bring  their  children 
into  existence.  They  hold  them  under  their  hand  till  the  young  life 
has  taken  a  bias  that  will  last  through  eternity.  Usually  the  tiny, 
tilting  craft  has  its  prow  turned  toward  heaven  or  hell  before  the 
parent's  hand  lets  go  the  helm.  This  ought  to  startle  careless  people 
out  of  their  indifference.  It  ought  to  drive  them  to  lives  of  piety ; 
for  how  can  they  teach  that  which  they  have  not  learned  ?  How 
can  they  impart  what  they  do  not  possess  ? 

68 


VISIT    YOUR    PARENTS. 

Parents  must  teach  by  example.  Precept  has  no  authority 
unless  backed  by  example.  For  the  children's  sake  all  liquors  ought 
to  be  banished  from  the  home.  The  story  is  most  pitiful,  and  quite 
too  common  to  need  repetition :  "  I  learned  to  drink  at  my  father's 
table.  My  mother's  hand  first  passed  me  the  cup  that  is  working 
my  damnation." 

In  every  home  there  ought  to  be  the  right  reading  on  this,  as  on 
every  by-subject.  We  are  what  we  read — or  we  read  what  we  are- 
as you  will.  One  thing  is  certain;  if  we  really  care  much  about 
this  horrible  traffic,  we  will  see  to  it  that  our  children  have  books 
and  papers  that  will  keep  them  in  sympathy  with  the  efforts  made 
for  its  prohibition. 

By  personal  example,  by  look,  by  reading,  and  by  prayer,  we 
may  make  an  atmosphere  that  shall  set  and  keep  our  households 
right  on  this  great  question.  Only  thus  can  we  hope  to  save  our- 
selves, and  those  whom  God  has  given  to  be  with  us,  from  the  tide 
that  sweeps  to  destruction  so  many  of  the  noblest  and  best. 


VISIT    YOUK    PARENTS. 

you  live  in  the  same  place,  let  your  steps  be — if  possible  daily 
— a  familiar  one  in  the  old  home ;  if  you  are  miles  away — yea 
many  miles  away — make  it  your  business  to  go  to  your 
parents.  In  this  matter  do  not  regard  tune  or  expense ;  the  one  is 
well  spent,  and  the  other  will  be,  even  a  hundred-fold,  repaid. 
When  some  day  the  word  reaches  you,  flashed  over  the  telegraph, 
that  your  mother  is  gone,  you  will  not  think  them  much,  those 
hours  of  travel  which  at  last  bore  you  to  the  loved  one's  side. 

— Anonymous. 


A  WORD  WITH  PARENTS  ABOUT  THEIR  CHILDREN, 

'HAT  pride  is  felt  by  parents  in  the  honest  success  of  their 
boys.  How  they  like  to  hear  of  his  good  and  manly  be- 
havior in  school,  in  the  counting-house,  or  on  deck,  where 
lives  are  to  be  saved  or  liberty  preserved !  That  parent  has  lived  to 
some  purpose  who  has  his  children  rooted  and  grounded  in  sound 
principles.  Equipping  well  the  son  or  daughter  for  the  voyage  of 
life,  is  a  duty  the  neglect  of  which  is  sure  to  entail  sorrow  and  shame. 
When  a  minister's  boy  goes  wrong,  the  whole  world  is  informed  of 
the  fact  with  apparent  glee,  by  those  who  have  no  taste  for  things 
religious.  It  is  clearly  expected,  then,  that  the  minister's  family, 
like  himself,  should  be  living  epistles,  known  and  read  of  all  men. 
Then  again,  when  the  son  or  daughter  of  a  religious  family  mingles 
freely  with  worldlings,  in  the  ball-room  and  at  the  theater,  the  finger 
of  reproach  is  justly  pointed  at  Christ's  followers,  and  the  majority 
are  held  responsible  for  the  acts  or  neglects  of  a  few.  Religion  and 
science  unite  in  positive  language,  that  the  defects  of  the  parents  are 
discoverable  in  the  children. 

The  only  cure  for  this  disorder — whatever  it  may  be — is  the 
grace  of  God,  the  love  and  friendship  of  Jesus.  The  parent,  then — 
father  or  mother — who  is  conscious  of  dangerous  personal  proclivities, 
occupies  vantage  ground  above  every  other  teacher,  however  quali 
fied,  in  dealing  with  his  child.  He  knows  the  besetting  sin,  and 
with  heaven's  aid,  can  overcome  it.  Those  parents  who  leave  the 
education  of  their  children  almost  altogether  to  the  sacred  or  secular 
teacher,  have  intrusted  the  most  important  business  of  life  to  hands 

70 


A    WORD   WITH    PARENTS    ABOUT    THEIR  CHILDREN. 

not  fully  competent  to  discharge  it.  The  good  housewife  bestows 
much  care  upon  the  curtains,  the  carpets,  the  pictures,  and  the  statu- 
ary within  the  home ;  while  the  sons  and  daughters,  with  bad  books, 
impure  associates,  and  misleading  plays,  are  gradually  drifting,  if  not 
already  there,  on  to  dangerous  ground.  It  is.proper  to  remind  these 
drowsy  parents  that  stains  on  pictures  and  dirt  on  curtains  are  minor 
evils,  unjustifiable  as  they  are,  compared  with  the  unmanly  act  of  the 
boy  or  the  frivolous  amusements  of  the  daughter.  "We  are  safe  in 
assuming  that  the  parents  of  Joseph,  Samuel,  and  Timothy,  were  of 
superior  stock.  Grace  makes  magnificent  pictures  when  it  lodges  in 
good,  natural  soil,  in  which  there  are,  as  we  are  taught,  various 
degrees.  Parents  who  expect  noble  children  must  themselves  lead 
noble  lives.  In  time,  and  the  sooner  the  better;  we  will  attach  more 
value  to  the  law  of  heredity.  We  will  then  try  to  do  much  for 
posterity  by  bequeathing  blood  and  habits  that  will  help  and  not 
hinder  the  race. 

Nice  families!  What  a  comfort  and  ornament  they  are  to 
society !  There  are  pleasant  homes  with  the  poets  and  others  with 
orators,  but  the  greatest  joy  is  evening  at  home  with  cultured  people 
who  know  much  of  Divine  things,  whose  lives  are  attuned  to  words 
that  cheer  and  deeds  that  ennoble.  You  are  sure  to  find  in  such 
homes  grandmotherly  and  motherly  influence  modeled  after  that 
which  made  Timothy  an  example  for  all  the  ages.  We  are  not 
doing  enough  in  the  right  direction  for  our  children.  If  we  would 
have  more  fragrance  and  fruit  we  must  prune  and  pray,  beginning 
within  and  working  outward. — Anonymous. 


CHAEMS  strike  the  sight,  but  merit  wins  the  soul. 

Pope. 

71 


THE    MOTHER'S    SORROW. 

S  the  waters  roll  in  on  the  shore  with  incessant  throbs,  night 
ami  day,  and  always, — not  alone  when  storms  prevail,  but  in 
calms  as  well, — so  it  is  with  a  mother's  heart  bereaved  of  her 
children.  There  is  no  grief  like  unto  it, — Rachael  weeping  for  her 
children,  and  refusing  to  be  comforted,  because  they  are  not !  With 
what  long  patience,  what  burden  and  suffering,  does  the  mother  wait 
until  the  child  of  her  hope  is  placed  in  her  arms  and  under  the  sight 
of  her  eyes !  She  remembereth  no  more  the  anguish,  for  joy  that  a 
man  is  born  into  the  world. 

Who  can  read,  or,  if  he  saw,  could  utter  the  thoughts  of  a  mother 
during  all  the  days  and  night  in  which  she  broods  the  helpless  thing  ? 
Every  true  mother  takes  home  the  full  meaning  of  the  angel's 
word ;  that  holy  thing  which  shall  be  born  of  thee  shall  be  called 
the  Son  of  God.  The  mother  does  not  even  whisper  what  she 
thinks,  and  the  whole  air  is  full  of  gentle  pictures,  every  one  on  the 
background  of  the  blue  heavens. 

The  child  grows, — grows  in  favor  of  God  and  man ;  and  every 
admiring  look  cast  upon  it,  even  by  a  stranger,  sends  light  and  glad- 
ness to  the  mothers  heart.  Wonderful  child !  The  sun  is  brighter 
for  it!  The  whole  earth  is  blessed  by  its  presence!  Sorrows, 
pains,  weariness,  self-denials,  for  its  sake,  are  eagerly  sought  and 
delighted  in.  , 

But  the  days  come  when  the  little  feet  are  weary ;  when  the 
night  brings  no  rest ;  when  the  cheek  is  scarlet,  the  eye  changed,  and 
the  smile  no  longer  knows  how  to  shine.  All  day,  all  night,  it  is  the 

72 


THE  MOTHER'S  SOBEOW. 

mother's  watch.  Her  very  sleep  is  but  a  vailed  waking.  Joy ;  the 
child  is  coming  back  to  health  !  Woe ;  it  is  drifting  out  again,  away 
from  consciousness  and  pain.  It  is  far,  far  out  toward — toward  dark- 
ness. It  disappears ! 

The  mother's  heart  was  like  a  heaven  while  it  lived ;  now  it  has 
ascended  to  God's  heaven,  and  the  mother's  heart  is  as  the  gloom  of 
midnight.  Wild  words  of  self-reproach  at  length  break  out,  as  when 
a  frozen  torrent  is  set  loose  by  spring  days.  She  that  has  lavished 
her  life-force  upon  the  child  turns  upon  herself  with  fierce  charges 
of  carelessness,  of  thoughtlessness.  She  sees  a  hundred  ways  in 
which  the  child  would  have  lived  but  for  her !  All  love  is  turned 
into  self-crimination.  Tears  come  at  length  to  quench  the  fire  of 
purgatory.  But  grief  takes  new  shapes  every  hour,  till  the  nerve 
has  lost  its  sensibility,  and  then  she  coldly  hates  her  unnatural  and 
inhuman  heart  that  will  not  feel. 

A  child  dying,  dies  but  once;  but  the  mother  dies  a  hundred 
tunes.  When  the  sharpness  is  over,  and  the  dullness  of  an  overspent 
brain  is  past,  and  she  must  take  up  the  shuttle  again,  and  weave  the 
web  of  daily  life,  pity  her  not  that  she  must  work,  must  join  again 
the  discordant  voices,  and  be  forced  to  duties  irksome  and  hateful. 
These  all  are  kindly  medicines.  A  new  thought  is  slowly  preparing. 
It  is  that  immovable  constancy  and  strength  which  sorrow  gives 
when  it  has  wrought  the  Divine  intent. — Methodist. 


ORROWS  are  often  like  clouds,  which  though  black  when 
they  are  passing  over  us,  when  they  are  past  become  as  if 
they  were  the  garments  of  God,  thrown  off  in  purple  and 
gold  along  the  sky.  H.  W.  Beechtr. 

78 


1 


THE  OLD  ARM  CHAIR. 

Eliza    Cook. 

LOVE  it— I  love  it,  and  who  shall  dare 

To  chide  me  for  loving  that  old  arm  chair ! 
^    I've  treasured  it  long  as  a  sainted  prize — 
I've  bedewed  it  with  tears,  and  embalmed  it  with  sighs ; 
'Tis  bound  by  a  thousand  bands  to  my  heart, 
Not  a  tie  will  break,  not  a  link  will  start. 
"Would  you  learn  the  spell  ?  a  mother  sat  there ; 
And  a  sacred  thing  is  that  old  arm  chair. 


In  childhood's  hour  I  lingered  near 

The  hallowed  seat  with  listening  ear  ; 

And  gentle  words  that  mother  would  give, 

To  fit  me  to  die,  and  teach  me  to  live. 

She  told  me  shame  would  never  betide, 

With  truth  for  my  creed,  and  God  for  my  guide ; 

She  taught  me  to  lisp  my  earliest  prayer, 

As  I  knelt  beside  that  old  arm  chair. 

I  sat  and  watched  her  many  a  day, 
When  her  eyes  grew  dim  and  her  locks  were  gray; 
And  I  almost  worshipped  her  when  she  smiled 
And  turned  from  her  Bible  to  bless  her  child. 
Years  rolled  on,  but  the  last  one  sped — 
My  idol  was  shattered — my  earth  star  fled : 
I  learnt  how  much  the  heart  can  bear, 
When  I  saw  her  die  in  that  old  arm  chair. 
74 


MARY,     THE    MOTHER    OF    JESUS. 

'Tis  past !  'tis  past !  but  I  gaze  on  it  now 
With  quivering  breath  and  throbbing  brow : 
'Twas  there  she  nursed  me —  'twas  there  she  died, 
And  memory  flowed  with  lava  tide — 
Say  it  is  folly,  and  deem  me  weak, 
While  the  scalding  tears  run  down  my  cheek. 
But  I  love  it — I  love  it,  and  cannot  tear 
My  soul  from  my  mother's  old  arm  chair. 


MAKY,    THE    MOTHEK.   OF    JESUS. 

N.  P.  WiU*. 

T  God's  right  hand  sits  one  who  was  a  child, 
Bom  as  the  humblest,  and  who  here  abode 
Till  of  our  sorrow  he  had  suffered  all. 
They  who  now  weep,  remember  that  he  wept. 
The  tempted,  the  despised,  the  sorrowing,  feel 
That  Jesus,  too,  drank  of  these  cups  of  woe. 
And  oh,  if  our  joys  he  tasted  less, — 
If  all  but  one  passed  from  his  lips  away — 
That  one, — a  mother's  love — by  his  partaking, 
Is  UJce  a  thread  of  heaven  spun  through  our  life, 
And  we  in  the  untiring  watch,  the  tears, 
The  tenderness  and  fond  trust  of  a  mother, 
May  feel  a  heavenly  closeness  unto  God — 
For  such,  all  human  in  its  blest  excess, 
Was  Mary's  love  for  Jesus. 

75 


MOTHER'S  VACANT  CHAIK. 

T.  De  Witt  Talmage. 

fs|l  GO  a  little  farther  on  in  your  house,  and  I  find  the  mother5* 
chair.  It  is  very  apt  to  be  a  rocking-chair.  She  had  so  many 
^*  cares  and  troubles  to  soothe,  that  it  must  have  rockers.  I 
remember  it  well.  It  was  an  old  chair,  and  the  rockers  were 
almost  worn  out,  for  I  was  the  youngest,  and  the  chair  had  rocked 
the  whole  family.  It  made  a  creaking  noise  as  it  moved,  but  there 
was  music  in  the  sound.  It  was  just  high  enough  to  allow  us  chil- 
dren to  put  our  heads  into  her  lap.  That  was  the  bank  where  we 
deposited  all  our  hurts  and  worries.  Oh,  what  a  chair  that  was.  'It 
was  different  from  the  father's  chair — it  was  entirely  different.  You 
ask  me  how  ?  I  cannot  tell,  but  we  all  felt  it  was  different.  Per- 
haps there  was  about  this  chair  more  gentleness,  more  tenderness, 
more  grief  when  we  had  done  wrong.  When  we  were  wayward, 
father  scolded,  but  mother  cried.  It  was  a  very  wakeful  chair.  In 
the  sick  day  of  children,  other  chairs  could  not  keep  awake ;  that 
chair  always  kept  awake — kept  easily  awake.  That  chair  knew  all 
the  old  lullabies,  and  all  those  worldless  songs  which  mothers  sing  to 
their  sick  children — songs  in  which  all  pity  and  compassion  and 
sympathetic  influences  are  combined.  That  old  chair  has  stopped 
rocking  for  a  good  many  years.  It  may  be  set  up  in  the  loft  or  the 
garret,  but  it  holds  a  queenly  power  yet.  When  at  midnight  you 
went  into  that  grog-shop  to  get  the  intoxicating  draught,  did  you  not 
hear  a  voice  that  said,  "  My  son,  why  go  in  there  ?"  and  a  louder 
than  the  boisterous  encore  of  the  theater,  a  voice  saying,  "  My  son,. 

76 


MOTHER'S  VACANT  CHAIR. 

what  do  you  here  ?"  And  when  you  went  into  the  house  of  sin,  a 
voice  saying,  "  What  would  your  mother  do  if  she  knew  you  were 
here  ?"  and  you  were  provoked  at  yourself,  and  you  charged  yourself 
with  superstition  and  fanaticism,  and  your  head  got  hot  with  your 
own  thoughts,  and  you  went  home  and  you  went  to  bed,  and  no 
sooner  had  you  touched  the  bed  than  a  voice  said,  "  What  a  prayer- 
less  pillow  !"  Man  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  This  !  You  are  too  near 
your  mother's  rocking-chair.  "  Oh,  pshaw  !"  you  say,  "  there's  noth- 
ing in  that.  I'm  five  hundred  miles  off  from  where  I  was  born — I'm 
three  thousand  miles  off  from  the  Scotch  kirk  whose  bell  was  the  first 
music  I  ever  heard."  I  cannot  help  that.  You  are  too  near  your 
mother's  rocking-chair.  "  Oh  !"  you  say,  "  there  can't  be  anything 
in  that ;  that  chair  has  been  vacant  a  great  while."  I  cannot  help 
that.  It  is  all  the  mightier  for  that ;  it  is  omnipotent,  that  vacant 
mother's  chair.  It  whispers.  It  speaks.  It  weeps.  It  carols.  It 
mourns.  It  prays.  It  warns.  It  thunders.  A  young  man  went  off 
and  broke  his  mother's  heart,  and  while  he  was  away  from  home  his 
mother  died,  and  the  telegraph  brought  the  son,  and  he  came  into 
the  room  where  she  lay,  and  looked  upon  her  face,  and  cried  out,  "  O 
mother,  mother,  what  your  life  could  not  do  your  death  shall  effect. 
This  moment  I  give  my  heart  to  God."  And  he  kept  his  promise. 
Another  victory  for  the  vacant  chair.  With  reference  to  your 
mother,  the  words  of  my  text  were  fulfilled  :  "  Thou  shalt  be  missed 
because  thy  seat  will  be  empty." 


WONDEOUS  power!  how  little  understood  ! 
Entrusted  to  the  mother's  mind  alone, 
To  fashion  genius,  form  the  soul  for  good. 

— Mrs.  Scvrah  J.  Hale. 

77 


KESPECT  FOK  MOTHEES. 

FEW  days  ago  we  heard  a  stripling  of  sixteen  designate  the 
mother  who  bore  him  as  the  old  woman.  By  coarse  husbands 
we  have  heard  wives  so  called  occasionally,  though  in  the 
latter  case  the  phrase  is  more  often  used  endearingly.  At  all  times, 
as  commonly  spoken,  it  jars  upon  the  ears  and  shocks  the  sense. 
An  old  woman  should  be  an  object  of  reverence  above  and  beyond 
almost  all  other  phases  of  humanity.  Her  very  age  should  be  her 
surest  passport  to  courteous  consideration. 

The  aged  mother  of  a  grown-up  family  needs  no  other  certificate 
of  worth.  She  is  a  monument  of  excellence,  approved  and  war- 
ranted. She  has  fought  faithfully  "  the  good  fight "  and  come  off 
conqueror.  Upon  her  venerable  face  she  bears  the  marks  of  the 
conflict  in  all  its  furrowed  lines.  The  most  grievous  of  the  ills  of 
life  have  been  hers ;  trials  untold,  and  known  only  to  God  and  her- 
self, she  has  borne  incessantly,  and  now,  in  her  old  age,  her  duty 
done,  patiently  awaiting  her  appointed  time,  she  stands  more  beauti- 
ful than  ever  in  her  youth,  more  honorable  and  deserving  than  he 
who  has  slain  his  thousands,  or  stood  triumphant  upon  the  proudest 
field  of  victory. 

Young  man,  speak  kindly  to  your  mother,  and  ever  courteously, 
tenderly  of  her.  But  a  little  time,  and  ye  shall  see  her  no  more  for- 
ever. Her  eye  is  dim,  her  form  bent,  and  her  shadow  falls  grave- 
ward.  Others  may  love  you  when  she  has  passed  away — a  kind- 
hearted  sister,  perhaps,  or  she  whom  of  all  the  world  you  choose  for 
a  partner — she  may  love  you  warmly,  passionately;  children  may 
love  you  fondly,  but  never  again,  never,  while  time  is  yours,  shall 
the  love  of  woman  be  to  you  as  that  of  your  old,  trembling  mother 
has  been. — Anonymous. 

78 


od  send  a  happy 

birthday,  dear, 
id  bless  thee  through 

the  coming  year. 


teak  a  shade  more  kindly 

Than  the  year  before  ; 
iy  a  little  oftener; 

Love  a  little  more ; 
'ng  a  little  closer 

To  the  Fathers  love; 
ce  below  shall  likergrow 

To  the  life  above. 


MY    MOTHER 

Henry  Kirke  White. 
st  thou,  mother,  for  a  moment  think 
it  we,  thy  children,  when  old  age  shall  shed 
blanching  honors  on  thy  weary  head, 
Dur  beet  of  duties  ever  shrink  ? 
un  from  his  high  sphere  should  sink, 
e,  ungrateful,  leave  thee  in  that  day, 
j  in  solitude  thy  life  away, 
e,  tottering  on  the  grave's  cold  brink, 
•hought ! — where'er  our  steps  may  roam, 
tiling  plains,  or  wastes  without  a  tree, 
11  fond  memory  point  our  hearts  to  thee, 
he  pleasures  of  thy  peaceful  home ; 
duty  bids  us  all  thy  griefs  assuage, 
looth  the  pillow  of  thy  sinking  age. 


MY   MOTHER. 

George  P.  Jforrw. 
•ther,  at  that  holy  name 
thin  my  bosom  there's  a  gush 
feeling  which  no  time  can  tanae, 
rhich,  for  years  of  fame, 
,  could  not  crush. 
79 


RESPECT  FOE  MOTHERS. 

FEW  days  ago  we  heard  a  stripling  of  sixt 
mother  who  bore  him  as  the  old  woman.  B; 
we  have  heard  wives  so  called  occasional!, 
latter  case  the  phrase  is  more  often  used  endearing, 
as  commonly  spoken,  it  jars  upon  the  ears  and  s 
An  old  woman  should  be  an  object  of  reverence  a 
almost  all  other  phases  of  humanity.  Her  very  ag 
surest  passport  to  courteous  consideration. 

The  aged  mother  of  a  grown-up  family  needs  no 
of  worth.     She  is  a  monument  of  excellence,  ap£| 
ranted.     She  has  fought  faithfully  "the  good  fight 
conqueror.    Upon  her  venerable  face  she  bears  tli 
conflict  in  all  its  furrowed  lines.     The  most  grievoi 
life  have  been  hers ;  trials  untold,  and  known  only  t 
self,  she  has  borne  incessantly,  and  now,  in  her  ol<; 
done,  patiently  awaiting  her  appointed  time,  she  stan 
ful  than  ever  in  her  youth,  more  honorable  and  des 
who  has  slain  his  thousands,  or  stood  triumphant  upc 
field  of  victory. 

Young  man,  speak  kindly  to  your  mother,  and  e^ 
tenderly  of  her.  But  a  little  tune,  and  ye  shall  see  h 
ever.  Her  eye  is  dim,  her  form  bent,  and  her  shad 
ward.  Others  may  love  you  when  she  has  passed 
hearted  sister,  perhaps,  or  she  whom  of  all  the  world 
a  partner — she  may  love  you  warmly,  passionately: 
love  you  fondly,  but  never  again,  never,  while  tune 
the  love  of  woman  be  to  you  as  that  of  your  old,  tre 
has  been. — Anonymous. 

78 


TO    MY    MOTHER. 

Henry  Kirke  White. 

canst  thou,  mother,  for  a  moment  think 
That  we,  thy  children,  when  old  age  shall  shed 
Its  blanching  honors  on  thy  weary  head, 
Could  from  our  best  of  duties  ever  shrink  ? 
Sooner  the  sun  from  his  high  sphere  should  sink, 
Than  we,  ungrateful,  leave  thee  in  that  day, 
To  pine  in  solitude  thy  life  away, 
Or  shun  thee,  tottering  on  the  grave's  cold  brink. 
Banish  the  thought ! — where'er  our  steps  may  roam, 
O'er  smiling  plains,  or  wastes  without  a  tree, 
Still  will  fond  memory  point  our  hearts  to  thee, 
And  paint  the  pleasures  of  thy  peaceful  home ; 
While  duty  bids  us  all  thy  griefs  assuage, 
And  smooth  the  pillow  of  thy  sinking  age. 


MY   MOTHER 

George  P.  Morris. 
mother,  at  that  holy  name 
Within  my  bosom  there's  a  gush 
Of  feeling  which  no  time  can  tamte, 
A  feeling  which,  for  years  of  fame, 
I  would  not,  could  not  crush. 

79 


TRIBUTE    TO   A   MOTHER 

Lord  Macaulay. 

§HILDREN,  look  in  those  eyes,  listen  to  that  dear  voice,  notice 
the  feeling  of  even  a  single  touch  that  is  bestowed  upon  you 
by  that  gentle  hand.  Make  much  of  it  while  yet  you  have 
that  most  precious  of  all  good  gifts,  a  loving  mother.  Read  the 
unfathomable  love  of  those  eyes ;  the  kind  anxiety  of  that  tone  and 
look,  however  slight  your  pain.  In  after-life  you  may  have  friends, 
fond,  dear,  kind  friends ;  but  never  will  you  have  again  the  inex- 
pressible love  and  gentleness  lavished  upon  you  which  none  but 
a  mother  bestows.  Often  do  I  sigh  in  my  struggles  with  the  hard, 
uncaring  world,  for  the  sweet,  deep  security  I  felt  when,  of  an 
evening,  nestling  in  her  bosom,  I  listened  to  some  quiet  tale,  suitable 
to  my  age,  read  in  her  tender  and  untiring  voice.  Never  can  I  for- 
get her  sweet  glances  cast  upon  me  when  I  appeared  asleep ;  never 
her  kiss  of  peace  at  night.  Years  have  passed  away  since  we  laid 
her  beside  my  father  in  the  old  churchyard ;  yet  still  her  voice 
whispers  from  the  grave,  and  her  eye  watches  over  me,  as  I  visit 
spots  long  since  hallowed  to  the  memory  of  my  mother. 


THE  MOTHER'S  MISSION. 

>HE  mother  in  her  office  holds  the  key 

Of  the  soul ;  and  she  it  is  who  stamps  the  coin 
Of  character,  and  makes  the  being  who  would  be  a  savage 
But  for  her  gentle  care,  a  Christian  man. — Anonymous. 

80 


GRANDPAPA'S  PETS. 


OLD   AGE. 

M.   W.  B. 

LL  the  days  of  my  appointed  time  will  I  wait,  till  my  change 
come."  Yes,  patiently  wait.  It  is  God's  will.  Jesus  said, 
"  My  time  is  not  yet  come,  but  your  time  is  always  ready." 
Old  age  is  honorable,  and  a  multitude  of  years  teach  wisdom.  How 
pleasant  to  converse  with  the  aged  of  the  times  fifty,  three-score,  or 
even  threescore  and  ten  years  since.  Some  young  people,  children 
and  grandchildren,  are  impatient  of  old  age,  while  others  have  a 
filial  delight  in  their  company,  and  love  to  care  for  them,  and 
tenderly  lessen  their  burdens.  Old  age,  however  serene  the  con- 
science and  well  spent  the  life,  has  its  sadness.  And  after  all  their 
care  and  toil  the  provision  they  have  made  for  themselves,  and 
children  on  whom  they  wish  to  learn  in  the  decline  of  life,  they 
have  a  dread  and  fear  of  being  a  burden.  Now  is  needed  the  grace 
to  wait.  Job's  reverses  of  fortune  were  great,  and  having  passed 
through  the  most  extreme  suffering  and  sorrow  with  integrity,  he 
has  handed  down  to  future  generations  a  character  renowed  for 
patience  and  fidelity.  He  had  all  the  temptations  to  end  his  own 
life,  but  no,  he  would  wait.  For,  says  he,  "I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth,  and  though  after  my  skin,  worms  destroy  this 
body,  yet  in  my  flesh  I  shall  see  God."  Thus  Methuselah  waited 
969  years,  and  then  had  an  eternity  before  him.  And  Enoch  walked 
with  God,  waiting  365  years,  and  was  not,  for  God  took  him. 
Abraham  waited  and  died  175  years  of  age.  Isaac  lived  till  he  was 
180,  having  been  blind  and  nearly  helpless,  62  years.  Jacob  waited 
till  the  change  came  at  the  age  of  147.  But  he  said,  "  Evil  and  few 
have  been  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage,  and  have  not  attained  to  the 
years  of  my  fathers."  When  dying  he  blessed  both  of  the  sons  of 
Joseph  through  faith,  and  worshiped  leaning  on  the  top  of  his 
staff.  Thus  may  we  wait  and  die. 
v  81 


MY   MOTHER'S    HAJSTDS. 

UCH  beautiful,  beautiful  hands ! 
They're  neither  white  nor  small, 
And  you,  I  know,  would  scarcely  think 

That  they  were  fair  at  all. 

I've  looked  on  hands  whose  form  and  hue 

A  sculptor's  dream  might  be, 

Tet  are  these  aged,  wrinkled  hands, 

More  beautiful  to  me. 

Such  beautiful,  beautiful  hands ! 
Though  heart  were  weary  and  sad, 
These  patient  hands  kept  toiling  on 
That  children  might  be  glad. 
I  almost  weep,  as  looting  back 
To  childhood's  distant  day, 
I  think  how  these  hands  rested  not 
When  mine  were  at  their  play. 

Such  beautiful,  beautiful  hands  I 

They're  growing  feeble  now ; 

For  time  and  pain  have  left  their  work 

On  hand,  and  heart,  and  brow. 

Alas !  alas !  the  wearing  time, 

And  the  sad,  sad  day  to  me, 

When  'neath  the  daisies,  out  of  sight, 

These  hands  will  folded  be. 

But  O,  beyond  this  shadowy  damp, 
Where  all  is  bright  and  fair, 
82 


MY  MOTHER'S  PICTURE. 

I  know  full  well  these  dear  old  hands 

Will  palms  of  victory  bear ; 

Where  crystal  streams,  thro'  endless  years, 

Flow  over  golden  sands, 

And  where  the  old  grow  young  again, 

I'll  clasp  my  mother's  hands. 

— Anonymous. 


MY    MOTHER'S    PICTURE. 

Wm.   Cowper. 

THAT  those  lips  had  language !    Life  has  pass'd 
With  me  but  roughly  since  I  heard  thee  last, 
Those  lips  are  thine, — thy  own  sweet  smile  I  see, 
The  same,  that  oft  in  childhood  solac'd  me ; 
Voice  only  fails,  else  how  distinct  they  say, 
"  Grieve  not,  my  child,  chase  all  thy  fears  away !" 
The  meek  intelligence  of  those  dear  eyes, 
(Bless'd  be  the  art  that  can  immortalize, 
The  art  that  baffles  Time's  tyrannic  claim 
To  quench  it,)  here  shines  on  me  still  the  same. 

Faithful  remembrancer  of  one  so  dear, 

0  welcome  guest,  though  unexpected  here  1 
Who  bid'st  me  honor  with  an  artless  song, 
Affectionate,  a  mother  lost  so  long. 

1  will  obey,  not  willingly  alone, 

But  gladly,  as  the  precept  were  her  own  ; 
And,  while  that  face  renews  my  filial  grief, 
Fancy  shall  weave  a  charm  for  my  relief , 
Shall  steep  me  in  Elysian  reverie, 

A  momentary  dream,  that  thou  art  she. 

83 


THE   MOTHER   AS    TEACHER. 

A.  w.  K. 

>HE  mother  is  the  luminary  that  shines  and  reigns  alone  in  the 
early  child-life ;  as  years  advance,  the  scepter  is  divided  and 
the  teacher  shares  the  sway. 

"We  often  think,  as  we  meet  the  earnest  gaze  of  the  interested 
pupil,  and  watch  the  mind  working  and  the  young  thought  shaping 
to  the  will,  "  Why  is  it  that  mothers  so  willingly  yield  to  others  this 
broad  sphere  of  their  domain,  and  are  content  to  foster  the  physical 
and  external  life  of  their  children,  leaving  the  intellectual  and 
spiritual  to  grow  without  their  aid  ?" 

One  would  suppose  that  capable  mothers  would  jealously  keep 
to  themselves  the  high  privilege  of  training  the  mind,  and  so  bind 
their  children  to  themselves  by  ties  which  are  stronger  than  the 
mere  physical  tie  can  be. 

We  who  have  grown  to  realize  to  whom  we  are  debtors,  are 
thrilled  with  delight  as  we  think  of  those  who  have  been  the  parents 
of  our  intellectual  life — who  seem  nearer  to  us  than  our  familiar 
friends,  though  we  never  have  and  never  may  look  upon  their  living 
faces, — Bryant,  Longfellow,  Ruskin,  Emerson  and  Carlyle,  and  many 
another.  How  they  have  covered  our  lives  with  a  rich  broidery  of 
beautiful  and  inspiring  thought,  so  that  to  live  in  the  same  world, 
and  at  the  same  time,  seems  a  benison  of  blessing. 

So  may  the  mother  weave  into  the  life  of  her  children  thoughts 
and  feelings,  rich,  beautiful,  grand  and  noble,  which  will  make  all 
after-life  brighter  and  better. 

Many  a  good  mother  may  think  she  has  no  time  for  this  mind 

84 


HOW    MAMMA    PLAYS. 

and  soul  culture,  but  we  find  no  lack  of  robes  and  ruffles,  and  except 
in  cases  where  the  daily  bread  of  the  family  must  be  earned  by  daily 
work,  away  from  home,  as  is  done  by  many  a  weary  mother,  we 
must  feel  that  there  is  not  one  who  cannot  command  one  half  hour 
each  morning,  when  the  mind  is  fresh  and  vigorous,  to  collect 
her  children  around  her,  and  minister  for  a  little  to  their  higher 
wants. 

If  each  mother,  according  to  her  several  ability,  seeks  to  develop 
the  higher  and  better  faculties  of  her  children,  the  reward  will  be  as 
great  as  the  aim  is  noble. 


HOW  MAMMA    PLAYS. 

Ella  Format 

fTJST  the  sweetest  thing  that  the  children  do 
Is  to  play  with  mamma,  a-playing  too  ; 
And  "  Baby  is  lost,"  they  think  is  the  best, 
For  mamma  plays  that  with  a  merry  zest. 

"  My  baby's  lost ! "  up  and  down  mamma  goes, 
A-peering  about  and  following  her  nose ; 
Inside  the  papers,  and  under  the  books, 
And  all  in  between  the  covers  she  looks, 

«  Baby !  Baby ! "  calling. 
But  though  in  her  way  is  papa's  tall  hat, 
She  never  once  thinks  to  look  under  that. 

She  listens,  she  stops,  she  hears  the  wee  laugh, 
And  around  she  flies,  the  faster  by  half, 
"  Why,  where  can  he  be  ? "  and  she  opens  the  clock, 
She  tumbles  her  basket,  she  shakes  papa's  sock, 
"  Baby  I  Baby  !  "  calling. 
85 


HOW    MAMMA    PLAYS. 

While  the  children  all  smile  at  papa's  tall  hat, 
Though  none  of  them  go  and  look  under  that. 

A  sweet  coo  calls.    Mamma  darts  everywhere, 
She  feels  in  her  pockets  to  see  if  he's  there, 
In  every  vase  on  the  mantel  shelf, 
She  searches  sharp  for  the  little  elf, 
"  Baby !  Baby ! "  calling. 
Another  coo  comes  from  papa's  tall  hat, 
Yet  none  of  them  stir  an  inch  toward  that. 

Somewhere  he  certainly  must  be,  she  knows, 
So  up  to  the  China  cupboard  she  goes ; 
The  covers  she  lifts  from  the  sugar-bowls, 
The  sweet,  white  lumps  she  rattles  and  rolls, 

"Baby!  Baby!"  calling. 
But  though  there's  a  stir  near  papa's  tall  hat, 
They  will  not  so  much  as  look  toward  that. 

She  moves  the  dishes,  but  baby  is  not 

In  the  cream-pitcher  nor  in  the  tea-pot ; 

And  she  wrings  her  hands  and  stamps  on  the  floor. 

She  shakes  the  rugs,  and  she  opens  the  door, 

"Baby!  Baby!  "calling. 
They  stand  with  their  backs  to  papa's  tall  hat, 
Though  the  sweetest  murmurs  come  from  that. 
The  children  join  in  the  funny  distress, 
Till  mamma,  all  sudden,  with  swift  caress, 
Makes  a  pounce  right  down  on  the  old,  tall  black  hat> 
And  brings  out  the  baby  from  under  that, 

"Baby!  Baby!  "calling. 
And  this  is  the  end  of  the  little  play, 
The  children  would  like  to  try  every  day. 

86 


MOTHEK'S    EMPIKE. 

Em.  H.  H.  Birkins. 

>HE  queen  that  sits  upon  the  throne  of  home,  crowned  and 
sceptred  as  none  other  ever  can  be,  is — mother.  Her 
enthronement  is  complete,  her  reign  unrivalled,  and  the 
moral  issues  of  her  empire  are  eternal.  "  Her  children  arise  up,  and 
call  her  blessed." 

Rebellious,  at  times,  as  the  subjects  of  her  government  may  be, 
she  rules  them  with  marvelous  patience,  winning  tenderness  and 
undying  love.  She  so  presents  and  exemplifies  divine  truth,  that  it 
re-produces  itself  in  the  happiest  development  of  childhood — charac- 
ter and  life. 

Her  memory  is  sacred  while  she  lives,  and  becomes  a  perpetual 
inspiration,  even  when  the  bright  flowers  bloom  above  her  sleeping 
dust.  She  is  an  incarnation  of  goodness  to  the  child,  and  hence  her 
immense  power.  Scotland,  with  her  well-known  reverence  for 
motherhood,  insists  that  "  An  ounce  of  mother  is  worth  more  than  a 
pound  of  clergy." 

Napoleon  cherished  a  high  conception  of  a  mother's  power,  and 
believed  that  the  mothers  of  the  land  could  shape  the  destinies  of 
his  beloved  France.  Hence  he  said  in  his  sententious,  laconic  style : 
"  The  great  need  of  France  is  mothers." 

The  ancient  orator  bestowed  a  flattering  compliment  upon  the 
homes  of  Roman  mothers  when  he  said,  "  The  empire  is  at  the  fire- 
side." Who  can  think  of  the  influence  that  a  mother  wields  in  the 
home,  and  not  be  impressed  with  its  far-reaching  results!  What 
revolutions  would  take  place  in  our  families  and  communities  if  that 

87 


MOTHER'S    EMPIRE. 

strange,  magnetic  power  were  fully  consecrated  to  the  welfare  of  the 
child  and  the  glory  of  God. 

Mohammed  expressed  a  great  truth  when  he  said  that  "  Paradise 
is  at  the  feet  of  mothers." 

There  is  one  vision  that  never  fades  from  the  soul,  and  that  is 
the  vision  of  mother  and  of  home.  No  man  in  all  his  weary  wander- 
ings ever  goes  out  beyond  the  overshadowing  arch  of  home. 

Let  him  stand  on  the  surf-beaten  coast  of  the  Atlantic,  or  roam 
over  western  wilds,  and  every  dash  of  the  wave  and  murmur  of  the 
breeze  will  whisper  home,  sweet  home. 

Set  him  down  amid  the  glaciers  of  the  North,  and  even  there 
thoughts  of  home,  too  warm  to  be  chilled  by  the  eternal  frosts,  will 
float  in  upon  him. 

Let  him  rove  through  the  green,  waving  groves,  and  over  the 
sunny  slopes  of  the  South,  and  in  the  smile  of  the  soft  skies,  and  in 
the  kiss  of  the  balmy  breeze,  home  will  live  again. 

John  Kandolph  was  once  heard  to  say  that  only  one  thing  saved 
him  from  atheism,  and  that  was  the  tender  remembrance  of  the  hour 
when  a  devout  mother,  kneeling  by  his  side,  took  his  little  hand  in 
hers,  and  taught  him  to  say  "  Our  Father,  who  art  in  Heaven." 

God  hasten  the  time  when  our  families,  everywhere,  shall  catch 
the  cry  of  childhood  as  it  swells  up  over  all  the  land,  like  the  voice 
of  God's  own  sweet  evangel,  calling  the  home — the  home  to  enter 
the  children's  temple,  and  crowd  its  altars  with  the  best  offerings  of 
sympathy  and  service. 

Fathers,  mothers,  let  the  home  go  with  your  children  to  Jesus, — 
let  it  go  with  them  at  every  step,  to  cheer  them  in  every  struggle, 
until  from  the  very  crest  of  the  cold  wave  that  bears  them  from  you 
forever,  they  shout  back  their  joy  over  a  home  on  earth,  that  helped 
them  rise  to  a  home  in  Heaven. 

88 


FOR   HIS   MOTHER'S    SAKE. 

A     YOUNG   man,  who  had  left  his  home,  ruddy  and  vigorous, 

was  seized  with  the  yellow  fever  in  New  Orleans  ;  and,  though 

nursed  with  devoted   care  by  friendly  strangers,  he  died.     When 

the  coffin  was   being   closed,  "Stop"  said  an  aged   woman  who 

was  present,  "  Let  me  kiss  him  for  his  mother  !  " 


me  kiss  him  for  his  mother  ! 
Ere  ye  lay  him  with  the  dead, 
Far  away  from  home,  another 
Sure  may  kiss  him  in  her  stead. 
How  that  mother's  lips  would  kiss  him 
Till  her  heart  should  nearly  break  ! 
How  in  days  to  come  she'll  miss  him  I 
Let  me  kiss  him  for  her  sake. 

-"  Let  me  kiss  him  for  his  mother  I 
Let  me  kiss  the  wandering  boy  ; 
It  may  be  there  is  no  other 
Left  behind  to  give  her  joy. 
When  the  news  of  woe,  the  morrow, 
Burns  the  bosom  like  a  coal, 
She  may  feel  this  kiss  of  sorrow 
Fall  as  balm  upon  her  soul. 

"  Let  me  kiss  him  for  his  mother  ! 
Heroes,  ye,  who  by  his  side, 
Waited  on  him  as  a  brother 
Till  the  Northern  stranger  died,  — 


BE    KIND    UNTO    THE    OLD. 

Heeding  not  the  foul  infection, 
Breathing  in  the  f »ver-breath, — 
Let  me,  of  my  own  election, 
Give  the  mother's  kiss  in  death. 

"  Let  me  kiss  him  for  his  mother  1 " 
Loving  thought  and  loving  deed  I 
Seek  nor  fear  nor  sigh  to  smother, 
Gentle  matrons,  while  ye  read. 
Thank  the  God  who  made  ye  human, 
Gave  ye  pitying  tears  to  shed  ; 
Honor  ye  the  Christian  woman 
Bending  o'er  another's  dead. — Anonymous. 


[AIL,  woman !    Hail,  thou  faithful  wife  and  mother, 
The  latest,  choicest  part  of  Heaven's  great  plan  1 
None  fills  thy  peerless  place  at  home  ;  no  other 
Helpmeet  is  found  for  laboring,  suffering  man. 

Rev.  Mark  Trafton 

4 

BE    KIND    UNTO    THE    OLD. 

^31)  E  kind  unto  the  old,  my  friend ; 
JM)        They're  worn  with  this  world's  strife, 
**^     Though  bravely  once  perchance  they  fought 
The  stern,  fierce  battle  of  life. 

They  taught  our  youthful  feet  to  climb 

Upwards  life's  rugged  steep ; 
Then  let  us  lead  them  gently  down, 

To  where  the  weary  sleep. — Anonymous.    , 

90 


THE  OLD  FOLKS. 

vou  would  make  the  aged  happy,  lead  them  to  feel  that  there 
is  still  a  place  for  them  where  they  can  be  useful.  WTien  you 
see  their  powers  failing,  do  not  notice  it.  It  is  enough  for 
them  to  feel  it,  without  a  reminder.  Do  not  humiliate  them  by 
doing  things  after  them.  Accept  their  offered  services,  and  do  not 
let  them  see  you  taking  off  the  dust  their  poor  eye-sight  has  left 
undisturbed,  or  wiping  up  the  liquid  their  trembling  hands  have 
spilled ;  rather  let  the  dust  remain,  and  the  liquid  stain  the  carpet, 
than  rob  them  of  their  self-respect  by  seeing  you  cover  their 
deficiencies.  You  may  give  them  the  best  room  in  your  house,  you 
may  garnish  it  with  pictures,  and  flowers,  you  may  yield  them  the 
best  seat  in  your  church-pew,  the  easiest  chair  in  your  parlor,  the 
highest  seat  of  honor  at  your  table  ;  but  if  you  lead,  or  leave,  them 
to  feel  that  they  have  passed  their  usefulness,  you  plant  a  thorn  in 
their  bosom  that  will  rankle  there  while  life  lasts.  If  they  are 
capable  of  doing  nothing  but  preparing  your  kindlings,  or  darning 
your  stockings,  indulge  them  in  those  things,  but  never  let  them 
feel  that  it  is  because  they  can  do  nothing  else ;  rather  that  they  do 
this  so  well. 

Do  not  ignore  their  taste  and  judgment.  It  may  be  that  in  their 
early  days,  and  in  the  circle  where  they  moved,  they  were  as  much 
sought  and  honored  as  you  are  now ;  and  until  you  arrive  at  that 
place,  you  can  ill  imagine  your  feelings  should  you  be  considered 
entirely  void  of  these  qualities,  be  regarded  as  essential  to  no  one, 
and  your  opinions  be  unsought,  or  discarded  if  given.  They  may 

91 


THE    OLD    FOLKS. 

have  been  active  and  successful  in  the  training  of  children  and 
youth  in  the  way  they  should  go ;  and  will  they  not  feel  it  keenly, 
if  no  attempt  is  made  to  draw  from  this  rich  experience  ? 

Indulge  them  as  far  as  possible  in  their  old  habits.  The  various 
forms  of  society  in  which  they  were  educated  may  be  as  dear  to 
them  as  yours  are  now  to  you ;  and  can  they  see  them  slighted  or 
disowned  without  a  pang?  If  they  relish  their  meals  better  by 
turning  their  tea  into  the  saucer,  having  their  butter  on  the  same 
plate  with  their  food,  or  eating  with  both  knife  and  fork,  do  not  in 
word  or  deed  imply  to  them  that  the  customs  of  their  days  are 
obnoxious  in  good  society ;  and  that  they  are  stepping  down  from 
respectability  as  they  descend  the  hill-side  of  life.  Always  bear  in 
mind  that  the  customs  of  which  you  are  now  so  tenacious  may  be 
equally  repugnant  to  the  next  generation. 

In  this  connection  I  would  say,  do  not  notice  the  pronunciation 
of  the  aged.  They  speak  as  they  were  taught,  and.  yours  may  be 
just  as  uncourtly  to  the  generations  following.  I  was  once  taught  a 
lesson  on  this  subject,  whice  I  shall  never  forget  while  memory 
holds  its  sway.  I  was  dining,  when  a  father  brought  his  son  to  take 
charge  of  a  literary  institution.  He  was  intelligent,  but  had  not 
received  the  early  advantages  which  he  had  labored  hard  to  procure 
for  his  son ;  and  his  language  was  quite  a  contrast  to  that  of  the 
cultivated  youth.  But  the  attention  and  deference  he  gave  to  his 
father's  quaint  though  wise  remarks,  placed  him  on  a  higher 
pinnacle  in  my  mind,  than  he  was  ever  placed  by  his  world-wide 
reputation  as  a  scholar  and  writer. — CongregaUonaUst. 


ALONE 
She  moves,  the  queen  of  her  own  quiet  home. 

Rev.  Mark  Trafton* 
92 


MY    MOTHER'S    BIBLE. 

George  P.  Morri*. 

>HIS  book  is  all  that's  left  me  now, — 
Tears  will  unbidden  start, — 
With  faltering  lip  and  throbbing  brow 
I  press  it  to  my  heart. 
For  many  generations  past 
Here  is  our  family  tree ; 
My  mother's  hands  this  Bible  clasped, 
She,  dying,  gave  it  me. 

Ah  !  well  do  I  remember  those 
Whose  names  these  records  bear ; 
Who  round  the  hearthstone  used  to  close 
After  the  evening  prayer, 
And  speak  of  what  these  pages  said, 
In  tones  my  heart  would  thrill ! 
Though  they  are  with  the  silent  dead, 
Here  are  they  living  still ! 

My  father  read  this  holy  book 
To  brothers,  sisters,  dear ; 
How  calm  was  my  poor  mother's  look 
Who  loved  God's  word  to  hear  1 
Her  angel  face — I  see  it  yet ! 
What  thronging  memories  come ! 
Again  that  little  group  is  met 
Within  the  halls  of  home ! 
93 


MY  MOTHER'S  BIBLE. 

Thou  truest  friend  man  ever  knew, 

Thy  constancy  I've  tried; 

When  all  were  false,  I  found  thee  true, 

My  counselor  and  guide. 

The  mines  of  earth  no  treasures  give 

That  could  this  volume  buy  ; 

In  teaching  me  the  way  to  live, 

It  taught  ine  how  to  die ! 


MT   MOTHEK'S    BIBLE. 

Bishop  Gilbert  Haven. 

one  of  the  shelves  in  my  library,  surrounded  by  volumes  of 
all  kinds,  on  various  subjects,  and  in  various  languages,  stands 
an  old  book,  in  its  plain  covering  of  brown  paper,  unpre- 
possessing to  the  eye,  and  apparently  out  of  place  among  the  more 
pretentious  volumes  that  stand  by  its  side.  To  the  eye  of  a  stranger 
it  has  certainly  neither  beauty  nor  comeliness.  Its  covers  are  worn  -r 
its  leaves  marred  by  long  use ;  its  pages,  once  white,  have  become 
yellow  with  age ;  yet,  old  and  worn  as  it  is,  to  me  it  is  the  most 
beautiful  and  most  valuable  book  on  my  shelves.  No  other  awakens 
such  associations,  or  so  appeals  to  all  that  is  best  and  noblest  within 
me.  It  is,  or  rather  it  was,  my  mother's  Bible — companion  of  her 
best  and  holiest  hours,  source  of  her  unspeakable  joy  and  consola- 
tion. From  it  she  derived  the  principles  of  a  truly  Christian  life 
and  character.  It  was  the  light  to  her  feet  and  the  lamp  to  her 
path.  It  was  constantly  by  her  side ;  and,  as  her  steps  tottered  in 
the  advancing  pilgrimage  of  life,  and  her  eyes  grew  dim  with  age, 

and  more  precious  to  her  became  the  well-worn  pages. 
One  morning,  just  as  the  stars  were  fading  into  the  dawn  of  the- 

94 


MY  MOTHER'S  BIBLE. 

coming  Sabbath,  the  aged  pilgrim  passed  on  beyond  the  stars  and 
beyond  the  morning,  and  entered  into  the  rest  of  the  eternal  Sab- 
bath— to  look  upon  the  face  of  Him  of  whom  the  law  and  the 
prophets  had  spoken,  and  whom,  not  having  seen,  she  had  loved. 
And  now,  no  legacy  is  to  me  more  precious  than  that  old  Bible. 
Years  have  passed  ;  but  it  stands  there  on  its  shelf,  eloquent  as  ever, 
witness  of  a  beautiful  life  that  is  finished,  and  a  silent  monitor  to 
the  living.  In  hours  of  trial  and  sorrow  it  says,  "  Be  not  cast  down, 
my  son ;  for  thou  shalt  yet  praise  Him  who  is  the  health  of  thy 
countenance  and  thy  God."  In  moments  of  weakness  and  fear  it 
says,  "  Be  strong  now,  my  son,  and  quit  yourself  manfully."  When 
sometimes,  from  the  cares  and  conflicts  of  external  lif e,  I  come  back 
to  the  study,  weary  of  the  world  and  tired  of  men — of  men  that  are 
so  hard  and  selfish,  and  a  world  that  is  so  unfeeling — and  the  strings 
of  the  soul  have  become  untuned  and  discordant,  I  seem  to  hear  that 
Book  saying,  as  with  the  well-remembered  tones  of  a  voice  long 
silent,  "  Lot  not  your  heart  be  troubled.  For  what  is  your  life  ?  It 
is  even  as  a  vapor."  Then  my  troubled  spirit  becomes  calm  ;  and 
the  little  ^orld,  that  had  grown  so  great  and  so  formidable,  sinks 
into  its  trie  place  again.  I  am  peaceful,  I  am  strong. 

There  is  no  need  to  take  down  the  volume  from  the  shelf,  or 
open  it.  A  glance  of  the  eye  is  sufficient.  Memory  and  the  law 
of  association  supply  the  rest.  Yet  there  are  occasions  when  it  is 
otherwise ;  hours  in  life  when  some  deeper  grief  has  troubled  the 
heart,  some  darker,  heavier  cloud  is  over  the  spirit  and  over  the 
dwelling,  and  when  it  is  a  comfort  to  take  down  that  old  Bible  and 
search  its  pages.  Then,  for  a  time,  the  latest  editions,  the  original 
languages,  the  notes  and  commentaries,  and  all  the  critical  apparatus 
which  the  scholar  gathers  around  him  for  the  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tures are  laid  aside ;  and  the  plain  old  English  Bible  that  was  my 
mother's  is  taken  from  the  shelf. 

95 


MY    MOTHEE'S    GRAVE. 

Eeo.  M.  0.  Henderson. 

>TTE  grave  of  my  mother  is  on  an  elevation  that  overlooks  a 
beautiful  village  where  many  an  hour  was  spent  in  study 
and  recreation,  in  days  of  boyhood.  A  marble  slab 
marks  the  place  where  we  laid  her  to  rest,  nearly  a  score  of  years 
ago.  Occasionally,  during  these  years  have  we  stood  by  her  grave, 
while  precious  remembrances  have  crowded  upon  our  mind,  and  the 
sweet  hope  of  meeting  again  cheered  our  sad  heart.  Our  hands  may 
be  full  of  labor,  our  hearts  bmxjlened  with  care  and  the  responsibili- 
ties of  life,  and  our  home  far  away,  but  a  mother's  grave,  with  aH 
the  hallowed  associations  clustering  around,  can  never  be  forgotten. 

The  grave  of  a  mother  is  indeed  a  sacred  spot.  It  may  be 
retired  from  the  noise  of  business,  and  unnoticed  by  the  stranger, 
but  to  our  hearts  how  dear.  The  love  we  bear  to  a  mother,  is  not 
measured  by  years,  is  not  annihilated  by  distance,  nor  forgotten  when 
she  sleeps  in  dust.  Marks  of  age  may  appear  in  our  homes,  and  on 
our  persons,  but  the  memory  of  a  mother  is  more  enduring  than 
tune  itself.  Who  has  stood  by  the  grave  of  a  mother  and  not 
remembered  her  pleasant  smiles,  kind  words,  earnest  prayer,  and 
assurance  expressed  in  a  dying  hour.  Many  years  may  have  passed, 
memory  may  be  treacherous  in  other  things,  but  will  reproduce  with 
freshness  the  impressions  once  made  by  a  mother's  influence.  Why 
may  we  not  linger  where  rests  all  that  was  earthly  of  a  sainted 
mother?  It  may  have  a  restraining  influence  upon  the  wayward, 
prove  a  valuable  incentive  to  increased  faithfulness,  encourage  hope 
in  the  hour  of  depression,  and  give  fresh  inspiration  in  Christian  life. 

96 


MOTHEKS,    SPAEE    YOURSELVES. 

a  mother  grows  old,  faded,  and  feeble  long  before  her 
time,  because  her  boys  and  girls  are  not  thoughtfully  con- 
siderate and  helpful.  "When  they  become  old  enough  to 
be  of  service  in  a  household,  mother  has  become  so  used  to  doing 
all  herself,  to  taking  upon  her  shoulders  all  the  care,  that  she  forgets 
to  lay  off  the  burden  little  by  little,  on  those  who  are  so  well  able 
to  bear  it.  It  is  partly  her  own  fault,  to  be  sure,  but  a  fault  com- 
mitted out  of  love  and  mistaken  kindness  for  her  children. 

— Anonymous. 


MY   MOTHEB'S    GKAVE. 

George  D.  Prentice. 
HE  trembling  dewdrops  fell 

Upon  the  shutting  flowers  ;  like  star-set  rest 
The  stars  shine  gloriously,  and  all, 
Save  me,  are  blest. 

Mother,  I  love  thy  grav^e ; 
The  violet  with  its  blossoms,  blue  and  mild 
"Waves  o'er  thy  head ;  when  shall  it  wave 
Above  thy  child  ? 

'Tis  a  sweet  flower,  yet  must 
Its  bright  leaves  to  the  coming  tempest  bow ! 
Dear  mother,  'tis  thine  emblem  ;  dust 
Is  on  thy  brow. 
G  97 


MY  MOTHER'S  GBAVB. 

And  I  could  love  to  die ; 
To  leave  untasted  life's  dark,  bitter  streams — 
By  thee,  as  erst  in  childhood,  lie 

And  sear  thy  dreams. 

But  I  must  linger  here 
To  stain  the  plumage  of  my  sinless  years, 
And  mourn  the  hopes  to  childhood  dear, 
With  bitter  tears. 

Aye,  I  must  linger  here, 
A  lonely  branch  upon  a  withered  tree, 
Whose  last  frail  leaf,  untimely  sere, 

Went  down  with  thee. 

Oft  from  life's  withered  bower, 
In  still  communion  with  the  past,  I  turn 
And  muse  on  thee,  the  only  flower 

In  memory's  urn. 

And  when  the  evening  pale 
Bows,  like  a  mourner  on  the  dim  blue  wave, 
I  stay  to  hear  the  night  winds  wail 

Around  thy  grave. 
S3 


Home  of  our  childhood  !  how  affection  dingt 
And  hovers  round  thee  with  her  seraph  wingj  / 
Dearer  thy  hills,  though  clad  in  autumn  frown, 
Than  fairest  summits  which  the  cedars  crown. 

OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES,. 

Whenever  we  step  out  of  domestic  life  in  search  of  felicity 
we  come  ~back  again,  disappointed,    tired,    and  chagrined. 
One  day  passed  under  our  own  roof,  with  our  friends  and 
our  family,  is  worth  a  thousf"d  in  another  place. 

EABL  OF 


THE  OLD  HOMESTEAD. 


HOME. 


[WBITTKK     KXPBE88LY     FOB     THIS     WORK.] 

By  Fanny  J  Grotty. 

IS  whispered  in  the  ear  of  God, 

'Tis  murmured  through  our  tears  ; 

'Tis  linked  with  happy  childhood  days, 
And  blessed  in  riper  years. 

That  hallowed  word  is  ne'er  forgot, 

No  matter  where  we  roam, 
The  purest  feelings  of  the  heart, 

Still  cluster  round  our  home. 

Dear  resting-place,  where  weary  thought 

May  dream  away  its  care, 
Love's  gentle  star  unvails  her  light, 

And  shines  in  beauty  there. 
106 


HOME. 

Jame*  Montgomery. 
is  a  land  of  every  land  the  pride, 
Beloved  by  heaven  o'er  all  the  world  beaide  ; 
Where  brighter  suns  dispense  serener  light, 
And  milder  moons  emparadise  the  night ; 
A  land  of  beauty,  virtue,  valor,  truth, 
Time-tortured  age,  and  love-exalted  youth. 

The  wandering  mariner,  whose  eye  explores 
The  wealthiest  isles,  the  most  enchanting  shores, 
Views  not  a  realm  so  bountiful  and  fair, 
Nor  breathes  the  spirit  of  a  purer  air ; 
In  every  clime  the  magnet  of  his  soul, 
Touched  by  remembrance,  trembles  to  that  pole ; 
For  in  this  land  of  heaven's  peculiar  grace, 
The  heritage  of  nature's  noblest  race, 
There  is  a  spot  of  earth  supremely  blest. 
A  dearer,  sweeter  spot  than  all  the  rest, 
Where  man,  creation's  tyrant,  casts  aside 
His  sword  and  sceptre,  pageantry  and  pride, 
While  in  his  softened  looks  benignly  blend 
The  sire,  the  son,  the  husband,  brother,  friend. 

Here  woman  reigns ;  the  mother,  daughter,  wife, 
Strew  with  fresh  flowers  the  narrow  way  of  life ! 
In  the  clear  heaven  of  her  delightful  eye 
An  angel-guard  of  loves  and  graces  lie ; 
104 


HOME    DEFINED. 

Around  her  knees  domestic  duties  meet, 
Ajid  fireside  pleasures  gambol  at  her  feet. 
Where  shall  that  land,  that  spot  of  earth  be  found  f 
Art  thou  a  man  ?- — a  patriot  ? — look  around  ; 
Oh,  thou  shalt  find,  howe'er  thy  footsteps  roam, 
That  land  thy  country,  and  that  spot  thy  home. 


HOME    DEFINED. 

Charles  8wav\ 
[OME'S  not  merely  four  square  walls, 

Though  with  pictures  hung  and  gilded  : 
Home  is  where  affection  calls, 

Filled  with  shrines  the  heart  hath  builded  I 
Home  !  go  watch  the  faithful  dove, 

Sailing  'neath  the  heaven  above  us ; 
Home  is  where  there's  one  to  love ! 
Home  is  where  there's  one  to  love  us ! 

Home's  not  merely  roof  and  room, 

It  needs  something  to  endear  it ; 
Home  is  where  the  heart  can  bloom, 

Where  there's  some  kind  lip  to  cheer  it  1 
What  is  home  with  none  to  meet, 

None  to  welcome,  none  to  greet  us  ? 
Home  is  sweet, — and  only  sweet — 

When  there's  one  we  love  to  meet  us ! 
105 


THE    HOME    OF    CHILDHOOD. 

Samuel  D.  Burchard,  D.D. 

>HE  most  impressive  series  of  pictures  I  have  ever  seen  are  by 
Thomas  Cole,  an  American  artist,  and  termed  "  The  Yoyage 
of  Life." 

The  first  represents  a  child  seated  in  a  boat  amid  varied  and 
beautiful  flowers,  and  his  guardian  angel  standing  by  to  guard  and 
protect  the  little  voyager. 

The  second  represents  the  youth,  still  on  his  voyage,  guiding  his 
own  bark  down  the  stream,  his  finger  pointing  upward  to  a  beautiful 
castle  painted  in  the  clouds. 

The  third  represents  the  man,  still  in  the  boat,  going  down  the 
rapids;  the  water  rough,  the  sky  threatening,  and  the  guardian 
angel  looking  on  from  a  distance,  anxiously. 

The  fourth  represents  an  old  man,  still  in  his  boat,  the  sun  going 
down  amid  floating  clouds  tinged  with  gold,  purple,  and  vermilion, 
the  castle  or  House  Beautiful  in  full  view,  and  the  guardian  angel 
with  an  escort  of  shining  celestials  waiting  to  attend  him  to  his  home 
in  glory. 

The  pictures  have  suggested  to  me  a  series  of  articles  on  Life's 
Great  Mission  and  work  for  the  grander  life  beyond.  And  on  this 
sublime  voyage  to  the  land  of  immortals,  to  the  Palace  Beautiful  in 
the  skies,  let  us  start  from  the  dear  old  home  of  childhood,  that 
home  which,  though  it  may  be  desolate,  is  still  imperishable  in 
memory. 

Home  of  my  childhood,  thou  shalt  ever  be  dear 
To  the  heart  that  so  fondly  revisits  thee  now  ; 
106 

I 


THE    HOME     OP    CHILDHOOD. 

Though  thy  beauty  be  gone,  thy  leaf  in  the  sere, 
The  wreaths  of  the  past  still  cling  to  thy  brow. 

Spirit  of  mine,  why  linger  ye  here ; 

Why  cling  to  those  hopes  so  futile  and  vain  t 

Go,  seek  ye  a  horn  a  in  that  radiant  sphere, 

Which  through  change  and  time  thou  shalt  ever  retain. 

Let  our  destined  port  be  the  home  of  the  blessed — the  city  which 
hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God ! 

"  And  thou  shalt  bring  thy  father,  and  thy  mother,  and  thy 
brethren,  and  thy  father's  household  home  unto  thee." — Joshua 
ii.  18. 

The  Christian  home,  implying  marriage,  mutual  affection,  piety, 
gentleness,  refinement,  meekness,  forbearance,  is  our  ideal  of  earthly 
happiness — a  beautiful  and  impressive  type  of  heaven. 

It  is  more  than  a  residence,  a  place  of  abode,  however  attractive 
in  its  surroundings,  however  richly  adorned  with  art  and  beauty. 

It  is  where  the  heart  is,  where  the  loved  ones  are — husband, 
wife,  father,  mother,  brothers,  sisters,  all  united  in  sympathy,  fellow- 
ship and  worship.  It  may  be  humble,  unpretentious,  exhibiting  no 
signs  of  material  wealth ;  but  there  is  the  wealth  of  mutual  affection, 
which  fire  cannot  consume,  and  no  commercial  disaster  alienate  or 
destroy,  and  this  is  home — the  home  of  the  heart,  the  home  of  child- 
hood, the  elysium  of  riper  years,  the  refuge  of  age. 

That  we  may  the  better  appreciate  the  Christian  homes  that  God 
has  given  us — the  homes  of  comfort  and  refinement,  that  rocked  the 
cradle  of  our  infancy — let  us  consider,  first,  the  vast  multitudes  of 
our  fallen  race  that  really  have  no  home ;  none  in  the  Christian 
sense,  none  that  antidate  heaven  in  peace,  refinement  and  mutual 
love.  How  many  children  are  born  to  the  heritage  of  vice,  poverty 
and  crime,  left  to  drift  upon  the  tide  of  circumstances,  to  be 
buffeted  in  the  wild  and  angry  storm,  to  be  chilled  on  the  desolate 

107 


THE    HOME     OF    CHILDHOOD. 

moor  of  life — to  wander  amid  the  voids  of  human  sympathy — the 
solitude  and  estrangement  of  human  society — the  children -of  dire 
misfortune — victims  of  vice  and  crime,  polluted  and  polluting  from 
the  first 

How  many  fall,  like  blossoms  prematurely  blown,  nipped  by  the 
lingering  frosts  of  winter  and  sinking  into  the  shadowed  stream,  or 
the  sobbing  soil  of  earth  to  be  seen  no  more. 

Think  of  the  dwellings  of  hard-handed,  wearied,  ill-requited 
labor,  where  ignorance  and  discontent  reign  supreme, — where  there 
is  no  recognition  of  God,  who,  in  his  all-wise  Sovereignty,  raiseth  up 
one  and  casteth  down  another.  Such  homes,  or  rather  places  of 
abode,  there  are  all  over  the  land,  all  over  the  dark  and  wide  realm 
of  heathendom,  the  children  of  which  must  be  devoted  to  sacrifice 
to  the  horrors  of  the  Ganges  or  the  Nile. 

Look  now  to  the  other  extreme  of  society,  to  the  habitations  of 
the  millionaires,  adorned  with  all  the  luxuries  of  wealth,  the  appli- 
ances of  art,  taste,  beauty,  whose  children  are  trained  up  to  worship 
at  the  shrine  of  Mammon,  to  exclude  from  their  minds  all  thoughts 
of  God  and  the  hereafter,  to  live  only  for  this  world,  to  feel  that 
there  is  no  society  worth  cultivating  except  that  of  the  rich,  the 
elite,  the  would-be  fashionable ;  that  all  enjoyments  are  material, 
sensuous,  worldly ;  that  the  chief  end  of  man  is  to  eat,  drink,  and  "be 
merry.  Such  households  do  not  furnish  the  best  schools  in  which 
to  educate  children  to  wrestle  with  misfortune  and  to  do  the  great 
work  of  life.  They  are  liable  to  grow  up  effeminate,  lacking  execu- 
tive strength,  cold,  proud,  misanthropic,  alienated  in  sympathy  from 
the  toiling  masses. 

There  can  be  no  well-regulated  home  without  piety,  without  the 
fear  and  love  of  God.  And  such  homes  are  usually  found  in  the 
middle  walks  of  life,  not  among  the  extreme  poor,  nor  the  proudly 
affluent,  but  among  the  mutually  loving — the  reverently  worshipful. 

108 


HOME    SONGS. 

It  is  to  such  homes  that  the  world  owes  its  highest  interests.  The 
old  patriarchs  understood  the  secret,  even  under  the  former  dispen- 
sation, long  before  the  dawn  of  the  Christian  era.  God  testified  o* 
Abraham,  of  Moses,  of  Samuel  and  Job  how  truly  they  comprt 
hended  the  nature  of  that  family  institution,  around  which  cluste' 
all  the  associations  of  the  first  period  of  human  life. 

And  it  has  only  been  in  the  line  and  in  the  light  of  the  Christiaa 
revelation,  that  the  highest  type  of  the  household  has  been  produced 
and  preserved.  And  it  is  upon  the  application  of  Christian  princi- 
ples alone,  that  the  structure  of  the  Christian  family  and  the  Chris- 
tian home  can  stand. 

The  family  in  its  origin  is  divine,  and  God  has  instituted  laws 
for  its  regulation  and  perpetuity,  and  these  laws  must  be  scrupu- 
lously observed  and  obeyed  or  it  ceases  to  be  an  ornament  and  a 
blessing — the  great  training-school  for  the  Church  and  the  State — 
the  safeguard  of  society  and  a  type  of  heaven. 


HOME  SONGS. 

§H,  sing  once  more  those  joy-provoking  strains, 
Which,  half  forgotten,  in  my  memory  dwell ! 
They  send  the  life  blood  bounding  through  my  veins, 
And  circle  round  me  like  an  airy  spell. 
The  songs  of  home  are  to  the  human  heart 

Far  dearer  than  the  notes  that  song  birds  pour, 
And  of  our  inner  nature  seem  a  part ; 

Then  sing  those  dear,  familiar  lays  once  more — 
Those  cheerful  lays  of  other  days  — 

Oh,  sing  those  cheerful  lays  once  more ! — Anonymous. 

109 


THE    OLD    HOME. 

Alfred  Tennyto* 
love  the  well-beloved  place 
Where  first  we  gazed  upon  the  sky  ; 
The  roofs  that  heard  our  earliest  cry, 
Will  shelter  one  of  stranger  race. 

We  go,  but  ere  we  go  from  home, 

As  down  the  garden-walks  I  move, 

Two  spirits  of  a  diverse  love 
Contend  for  loving  inasterdom. 

One  whispers,  "  Here  thy  boyhood  sung 
Long  since,  its  matin  song,  and  heard 
The  low  love-language  of  the  bird, 

In  native  hazels  tassel-hung." 

'The  other  answers,  "  Yea,  but  here 

Thy  feet  have  strayed  in  after  hours, 
With  thy  best  friend  among  the  bowers, 

And  this  hath  made  them  trebly  dear." 

These  two  have  striven  half  a  day ; 

And  each  prefers  his  separate  claim, 

Poor  rivals  in  a  losing  game, 
That  will  not  yield  each  other  way. 

I  turn  to  go :  my  feet  have  set 

To  leave  the  pleasant  fields  and  forms ; 
They  mix  in  one  another's  arms 

To  one  pure  image  of  regret. 
110 


HOME    SHADOWS. 

Robert  Colly er,  D.D. 

,  1  wonder  whether  we  have  any  deep  consciousness 
of  the  shadows  we  are  weaving  about  our  children  in  the 
home ;  whether  we  ever  ask  ourselves,  if,  in  the  far  future, 
when  we  are  dead  and  gone,  the  shadow  our  home  casts  now  will 
stretch  over  them  for  bane  or  blessing.  It  is  possible  we  are  full 
of  anxiety  to  do  our  best,  and  to  make  our  homes  sacred  to  the 
children.  We  want  them  to  come  up  right,  to  turn  out  good  men 
and  women,  to  be  an  honor  and  praise  to  the  home  out  of  which 
they  sprang.  But  this  is  the  pity  and  the  danger,  that,  while  we 
we  may  not  come  short  in  any  real  duty  of  father  and  mother,  we 
may  yet  cast  no  healing  and  sacramental  shadow  over  the  child. 
Believe  me,  friends,  it  was  not  in  the  words  he  said,  in  the  pressure 
of  the  hand,  in  the  kiss,  that  the  blessing  lay  Jesus  gave  to  the  little 
ones,  when  he  took  them  in  his  arms.  So  it  is  not  in  these,  but  in 
the  shadow  of  my  innermost,  holiest  self ;  in  that  which  is  to  us 
what  the  perfume  is  to  the  flower,  a  soul  within  the  soul, — it  is  that 
which,  to  the  child,  and  in  the  home,  is  more  than  the  tongue  of 
men  or  angels,  or  prophecy  or  knowledge,  or  faith  that  will  move 
mountains,  or  devotion  that  will  give  the  body  to  be  burned.  I  look 
back  with  wonder  on  that  old  time,  and  ask  myself  how  it  is  that 
most  of  the  things,  I  suppose  my  father  and  mother  built  on  especi- 
ally to  mould  me  to  a  right  manhood  are  forgotten  and  lost  out  of 
my  life.  But  the  thing  they  hardly  ever  thought  of, — the  shadow 
of  blessing  cast  by  the  home  ;  the  tender  unspoken,  love ;  the  sacri  • 
fices  made,  and  never  thought  of,  it  was  so  natural  to  make  them  ; 
ten  thousand  little  things,  so  simple  as  to  attract  no  notice,  and  yet 

111 


HOME    ADORNMENTS. 

go  sublime  as  I  look  back  at  them, — they  fill  my  heart  still  and 
always  with  tenderness,  when  I  remember  them,  and  my  eyes  with 
tears.  All  these  things,  and  all  that  belong  to  them,  still  come  over 
me,  and  cast  the  shadow  that  forty  yeara,  many  of  them  lived  in  a 
new  world,  cannot  destroy. 

I  fear,  few  parents  know  what  a  supreme  and  holy  thing  is  this 
shadow  cast  by  the  home,  over,  especially,  the  first  seven  years  of 
this  life  of  the  child.  I  think  the  influence  that  comes  in  this  way 
is  the  very  breath  and  bread  of  life.  I  may  do  other  things  for  duty 
or  principle  or  religious  training ;  they  are  all,  by  comparison,  as 
when  I  cut  and  trim  and  train  a  vine ;  and,  when  I  let  the  sun  shine 
and  the  rain  fall  on  it,  the  one  may  aid  the  life ;  the  other  is  the 
life.  Steel  and  string  are  each  good  in  their  place ;  but  what  are 
they  to  sunshine  ?  It  is  said  that  a  child,  hearing  once  of  heaven, 
and  that  his  father  would  be  there,  replied,  "Oh!  then,  I  dinna 
want  to  gang."  He  did  but  express  the  holy  instinct  of  a  child,  to 
whom  the  father  may  be  all  that  is  good,  except  just  goodness, — be 
all  any  child  can  want,  except  what  is  indispensable — that  gracious 
atmosphere  of  blessing  in  the  healing  shadow  it  casts,  without  which 
even  heaven  would  come  to  be  intolerable. 


HOME    ADORNMENTS. 

Rev.  Dr.  Downing. 

ROOM  without  pictures  is  like  a  room  without  windows. 
Pictures  are  loop-holes  of  escape  to  the  soul,  leading  to  other 
scenes  and  other  spheres.  Pictures  are  consolers  of  loneli- 
ness ;  they  are  books,  they  are  histories  and  sermons,  which  we  can 
read  without  the  trouble  of  turning  over  the  leaves. 

112 


HAPPY  CHILDHOOD. 


THE   SCENES    OF   MY    CHILDHOOD. 

(THE  OLD  OAKEN  BUCKET.) 

Samuel  Woodworth. 

[  O"W  dear  to  this  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood, 
When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view ! 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep-tangled  wild  wood, 
And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew  ! 
The  wide-spreading  pond  and  the  mill  that  stood  by  it, 
The  bridge  and  the  rock  where  the  cataract  fell, 
The  cot  of  my  father,  the  dairy-house  nigh  it, 
And  e'en  the  rude  bucket  that  hung  in  the  well, 
The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket, 
The  moss-covered  bucket  which  hung  in  the  well. 

That  moss-covered  vessel  I  hailed  as  a  treasure, 
For  often  at  noon,  when  returned  from  the  field, 
I  found  it  the  source  of  an  exquisite  pleasure, 
The  purest  and  sweetest  that  nature  can  yield. 
How  ardent  I  seized  it  with  hands  that  were  glowing, 
And  quick  to  the  white  pebbled  bottom  it  fell ; 
Then  soon,  with  the  emblem  of  truth  overflowing 
And  dripping  with  coolness,  it  rose  from  the  well ; 
The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket, 
The  moss-covered  bucket,  arose  from  the  well. 

How  sweet  from  the  green,  mossy  brim  to  receive  it, 
As  poised  on  the  curb  it  inclined  to  my  lips ! 
H  113 


LONGINGS    FOR    HOME. 

Not  a  full,  blushing  goblet  could  tempt  me  to  leave  it, 

The  brightest  that  beauty  or  revelry  sips. 

And  now,  far  removed  from  the  loved  habitation, 

The  tear  of  regret  will  intrusively  swell, 

As  fancy  reverts  to  my  father's  plantation, 

And  sighs  for  the  bucket  that  hangs  in  the  well ; 

The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket, 

The  moss-covered  bucket,  that  hangs  in  the  well ! 


LONGINGS    FOR   HOME. 

Oliver  Goldsmith. 

%f  N  all  my  wanderings  round  this  world  of  care, 
JH[    In  all  my  griefs — and  God  has  given  my  share— 
*^®     I  still  had  hopes  my  latest  hours  to  crown, 
Amidst  these  humble  bowers  to  lay  me  down  ; 
To  husband  out  life's  taper  at  the  close, 
And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting,  by  repose  ; 
I  still  had  hopes,  for  pride  attends  us  still, 
Amidst  the  swains  to  show  my  book-learned  skill ; 
Around  my  fire  an  evening  group  to  draw, 
And  tell  of  all  I  felt,  and  all  I  saw ; 
And  as  a  hare,  whom  hounds  and  horns  pursue, 
Pants  to  the  place  from  whence  at  first  she  flew, 
I  still  had  hopes,  my  long  vexations  past, 
Here  to  return — and  die  at  home  at  last. 

114 


HOME  GOVERNMENT— WHAT  IS  IT? 

<f|f[T  is  not  to  watch  children  with  a  suspicious  eye,  to  frown  at  the 
3|[  merry  outbursts  of  innocent  hilarity,  to  suppress  their  joyous 
*^®  laughter,  and  to  mould  them  into  melancholy  little  models  of 
octogenarian  gravity.  And  when  they  have  been  in  fault,  it  is  not 
simply  to  punish  them  on  account  of  the  personal  injury  that  you 
have  chanced  to  suffer  in  consequence  of  their  fault,  while  disobe- 
dience, unattended  by  inconvenience  to  yourself,  passes  without 
rebuke. 

Nor  is  it  to  overwhelm  the  little  culprit  with  angry  words ;  to 
stun  him  with  a  deafening  noise ;  to  call  him  by  hard  names,  which 
do  not  express  his  misdeeds  ;  to  load  him  with  epithets  which  would 
be  extravagant  if  applied  to  a  fault  of  tenfold  enormity ;  or  to 
declare,  with  passionate  vehemence,  that  he  is  the  worst  child  in  the 
world,  and  destined  for  the  gallows. 

But  it  is  to  watch  anxiously  for  the  first  risings  of  sin,  and  to 
repress  them  ;  to  counteract  the  earliest  workings  of  selfishness  ;  to 
repress  the  first  beginnings  of  rebellion  against  rightful  authority  ; 
to  teach  an  implicit  and  unquestioning  and  cheerful  obedience  to  the 
will  of  the  parent,  as  the  best  preparation  for  a  future  allegiance  to 
the  requirements  of  the  civil  magistrate,  and  the  laws  of  the  great 
Ruler  and  Father  in  heaven. 

It  is  to  punish  a  fault  because  it  is  a  fault,  because  it  it  sinful, 
and  contrary  to  the  command  of  God,  without  reference  to  whether 
it  may  or  may  not  have  been  productive  of  immediate  injury  to  the 
parent  or  others. 

115 


HOME    GOVERNMENT— ITS    IMPORTANCE. 

It  is  to  reprove  with  calmness  and  composure,  and  not  with 
angry  irritation, — in  a  few  words,  fitly  chosen,  and  not  with  a 
torrent  of  abuse ;  to  punish  as  often  as  you  threaten,  and  threaten 
only  when  you  intend  and  can  remember  to  perform  ;  to  say  what 
you  mean,  and  infallibly  do  as  you  say. 

It  is  to  govern  your  family  as  in  the  sight  of  Him  who  gave  you 
authority,  and  who  will  reward  your  strict  fidelity  with  such  bless- 
ings as  he  bestowed  on  Abraham,  or  punish  your  criminal  neglect 
with  such  curses  as  He  visited  on  Eli. — Mother's  Treasury. 


HOME  GOVERNMENT— ITS  IMPORTANCE. 

Rev.  B.  F.  Booth. 

>HE  importance  of'  sacredly  guarding  the  family  relation  can 
not  well  be  overestimated.  It  is  the  foundation-stone  of  all 
that  is  good  and  pure  both  in  civilization  and  religion. 
Take  this  away,  and  the  whole  fabric  must  topple  and  fall.  The 
first  government  on  earth  was  patriarchal,  and  in  it  was  contained 
the  inception  of  all  civil  authority ;  and,  indeed,  all  rightful  civil 
government  to  the  present  day  is  only  an  enlarged  form  of  family 
government  in  a  representative  form,  taking  into  consideration  the 
wants  and  necessities  of  each  individual  family  within  its  jurisdic 
tion.  The  unity  and  perpetuity  of  the  family  tie  in  purity  and 
peace  is  the  only  safeguard  to  national  perpetuity,  peace,  and 
honor.  Demoralize  the  family  and  you  thereby  destroy  both 
domestic  and  national  happiness,  and  undermine  completely  the 
temple  of  virtue  and  hope,  and  prepare  the  way  of  moral  and  civil 
desolation.  The  first  impulse  of  patriotism  and  morality  is  germin- 
ated, nurtured,  and  largely  if  not  entirely  developed  in  the  family 

116 


HOME    GOVERNMENT — ITS    IMPORTANCE. 

circle.  It  is  here  that  the  first  fruits  of  everything  which  is  good 
and  pure  are  brought  forth.  Hence  the  nations  that  disregard  the 
sacredness  of  this  relation  have  no  permanent  forms  of  government, 
and  anything  like  common  morality  is  nowhere  to  be  found  among 
them.  And  it  is  also  worthy  of  careful  note  that  just  so  far  as  any 
people  depart  from  the  true  form  of  the  family  tie,  just  in  that  same 
ratio  do  they  give  evidence  of  it  in  their  civility  and  morality.  It  is 
therefore  within  the  family  £ircle  that  the  star  of  hope,  of  religion 
and  civil  rights  is  to  be  seen,  and  let  it  go  down  and  all  would  be 
turned  into  the  dismal  darkness  of  midnight  without  moon  or  star  to 
guide  the  weary  pilgrim  on  his  way.  This  spot  is  to  be  guarded  as 
the  tree  of  life,  with  the  flaming  sword  turning  either  way,  perpetu- 
ally guarantying  thus  the  most  sacred  bond  of  union  and  strength 
and  the  only  remaining  institution  of  man's  primeval  state.  There 
may  be,  and  doubtless  are,  numerous  abuses  of  the  marriage  state ; 
but  that  does  not  argue  against  its  importance,  neither  does  it  detract 
from  its  absolute  value  and  necessity. 

The  family  circle  may  be — ought  to  be — the  most  charming  and 
delightful  place  on  earth,  the  center  of  the  purest  affections  and 
most  desirable  associations  as  well  a§  the  most  attractive  and  exalted 
beauties  to  be  found  this  side  of  paradise.  Nothing  can  exceed  in 
beauty  and  sublimity  the  quietude,  peace,  harmony,  affection,  and 
happiness  of  a  well-ordered  family,  where  virtue  is  nurtured  and 
every  good  principle  fostered  and  sustained.  From  the  well-ordered 
homes  in  this  great,  broad  land  of  religious  and  civil  liberty  not  only 
are  great  and  good  statesmen  to  come,  and  eminently  pious  and 
intelligent  divines ;  but  what  is  equally  important,  from  these  homes 
must  come  the  more  common  populace  of  the  land,  upon  whose 
intelligence,  patriotism,  and  purity  depends  the  continuance  of  the 
rich  blessings  which  are  now  common  to  all.  If  freedom  is  kept 
and  sanctified  by  the  people  ;  if  the  true  spirit  of  Christianity  is  to 

117 


HOME    GOVERNMENT — ITS    IMPORTA.NG.fc. 

be  continued,  in  aft  its  sacred  purity,  on  to  our  children's  childrenr 
even  to  the  latest  generations  of  men,  they  must  be  kept  inviolate  in 
our  families  and  impressed  in  our  homes.  They  are  both  dependent 
upon  the  family  circle  and  the  training  and  order  administered 
therein.  Then  they  who  would  dissolve  the  marriage  rite,  with  all 
its  hallowed  and  binding  influences,  would  overthrow  everything 
that  is  worth  living  for,  and  turn  society  into  a  bedlam  of  confusion 
and  moral  degradation  ;  for  it  is  the  chain  that  binds  the  entire  net- 
work of  human  society  together,  in  all  of  its  highest  prospects,  both 
for  time  and  eternity.  There  is  no  civilization  equal  to  it ;  in  fact, 
there  is  none  without  it  to  the  Christian,  and  there  is  no  Christian 
civilization  without  the  marriage  ceremony,  in  all  of  its  binding  and 
uniting  force.  In  fact,  domestic  happiness  is  wholly  dependent  upon 
the  sanctity  of  the  marriage  relation ;  is  an  exclusive  trait  of 
Christianity  ;  and  Christianity  is  the  only  system  in  the  world  calcu- 
lated to  advance  the  interests  of  common  humanity,  and  insure  to  all 
equal  rights,  earthly  bliss,  and  a  sweet  home  forever  beyond  the 
narrow  limits  of  the  quiet  tomb. 

What  was  said  concerning  Abraham  may  be  said  of  every  true 
Christian  father:  "For  I  know  him,  that  he  will  command  his 
children  and  his  household  after  him ;  and  they  shall  keep  the  way 
of  the  Lord,  to  do  justice  and  judgment,  that  the  Lord  may  bring 
upon  Abraham  that  which  he  hath  spoken  of  him."  Happy  is  that 
nation  whose  children  are  brought  up  in  families  like  this.  There 
purity,  virtue,  and  true  manhood  in  every  principle  of  justice  and 
mercy  will  be  permanently  secured.  What  an  important  place, 
therefore,  does  the  family  occupy  in  the  social,  moral,  and  political 
worlds !  Take  this  away,  and  the  bond  of  sacred  union  is  forever 
dissolved,  and  the  most  distressing  and  deplorable  results  must 
follow.  Break  asunder  these  centers  of  holy  affections  of  truth, 
honor,  and  purity,  and  you  will  fill  the  land  with  every  enormity, 

118 


HOME    TRAINING    OF    CHILDREN. 

and  desolation,  the  most  far-reaching  and  dreadful,  will  fill  its  entire 
breadth.  It  is  highly  important  and  necessary  not  only  to  continue 
the  validity  of  the  marriage  rite,  upon  which  the  true  idea  of  the 
family  is  based,  but  great  care  should  be  exercised  to  make  these 
homes  all  that  they  can  and  should  be  made, — the  most  delightful 
and  enticing  places  on  earth,  where  everything  that  is  good  is 
encouraged,  and  everything  evil  pointed  out  and  discountenanced ; 
for  as  children  leave  the  parental  home  they  are,  to  a  large  extent, 
molded  for  life.  Orders  and  correct  morals  should  here  receive  the 
proper  stamp  upon  the  opening  mind.  Yes,  everything  we  wish  our 
children  to  be,  in  time  and  eternity,  should  here  be  taught  and 
enforced.  Then  "  all  thy  children  shall  be  taught  of  the  Lord,  and 
great  shall  be  the  peace  of  thy  children." 


HOME    TRAINING    OF    CHILDREN. 

D.  L.  Moody. 

fgf  HAVE  no  doubt  some  parents  have  got  discouraged  and  dis- 
lH[  heartened  that  they  have  not  seen  their  children  brought  to 
^®  the  Saviour  as  early  as  they  expected.  I  do  not  know  any 
thing  that  has  encouraged  me  more  in  laboring  for  children  than  my 
experience  in  the  inquiry  room.  In  working  there  I  have  found 
that  those  who  had  religious  training,  whose  parents  strove  early  to 
lead  them  to  Christ,  have  been  the  easiest  to  lead  toward  Him.  I 
always  feel  as  if  I  had  a  lever  to  work  with  when  I  know  that  a  man 
has  been  taught  by  a  godly  father  and  mother ;  even  if  his  parents 
died  when  he  was  young,  the  impression  that  they  died  praying  for 
liim  has  always  a  great  effect  through  life.  I  find  that  such  men  are 
always  so  much  easier  reached,  and  though  we  may  not  live  to  see 
all  our  prayers  answered,  and  all  our  children  brought  into  the  fold, 

119 


HOME    TRAINING   FOB    CHILDREN. 

yet  we  should  teach  them  diligently,  and  do  it  in  love.  There  i$ 
whore  a  good  many  make  a  mistake,  by  not  teaching  their  children 
in  IOTO — by  doing  it  coldly  or  harshly.  Many  send  them  off  to  read 
the  Bible  by  themselves  for  punishment.  Why,  I  would  put  my 
hand  in  the  fire  before  I  would  try  to  teach  them  in  that  way.  If 
we  teach  our  children  as  we  ought  to  do,  instead  of  Sunday  being 
the  dreariest,  dullest,  tiresomest  day  of  the  week  to  them,  it  will  be 
the  brightest,  happiest  day  of  the  whole  seven.  What  we  want  to 
do  is  to  put  religious  truths  before  our  children  in  such  an  attractive 
form  that  the  Bible  will  be  the  most  attractive  of  books  to  them. 
Children  want  the  same  kind  of  food  and  truth  that  we  do,  only  we 
must  cut  it  up  a  little  finer,  so  that  they  can  eat  it.  I  have  great 
respect  for  a  father  and  mother  who  have  brought  up  a  large  family 
and  trained  them  so  that  they  have  come  out  on  the  Lord's  side. 
Sometimes  mothers  are  discouraged  and  do  not  think  they  have  so- 
large  a  sphere  to  do  good  in  as  we  have,  but  a  mother  who  has 
brought  up  a  large  family  to  Christ  need  not  consider  her  life  a 
failure.  I  know  one  who  has  brought  up  ten  sons,  all  Christians ; 
do  you  think  her  life  has  been  a  failure  ?  Let  us  teach  our  children 
diligently,  in  season  and  out  of  season.  We  might  train  them  that 
they  shall  be  converted  so  early  they  can't  tell  when  they  were  con- 
verted. I  do  not  believe,  as  some  people  seem  to  think,  that  they 
have  got  to  wander  off  into  sin  first,  so  that  they  may  be  brought 
back  to  Christ.  Those  who  have  been  brought  up  in  that  way  from 
their  earliest  childhood,  do  not  have  to  spend  their  whole  life  in 
forgetting  some  old  habit.  Let  us  be  encouraged  in  bringing  our 
children  to  Christ. 

120 


HOME    AFFECTION. 

H.  C.  Darns. 

FFECTION  does  not  beget  weakness,  nor  is  it  effeminate  for  a 
brother  to  be  tenderly  attached  to  his  sisters.  That  boy  will 
make  the  noblest,  the  bravest  man.  On  the  battle-field,  in 
many  terrible  battles  during  our  late  horrible  war,  I  always  noticed 
that  those  boys  who  had  been  reared  under  the  tenderest  home 
culture  always  made  the  best  soldiers.  They  were  always  brave, 
always  endured  the  severe  hardships  of  camp,  the  march,  or  on  the 
bloody  field  most  silently,  and  were  most  dutiful  at  every  call. 
More,  much  more,  they  resisted  the  frightful  temptations  that  so 
often  surrounded  them,  and  seldom  returned  to  their  loved  ones 
stained  with  the  sins  incident  to  war.  Another  point,  they  were 
always  kind  and  polite  to  those  whom  they  met  in  the  enemy's 
country.  Under  their  protection,  woman  was  always  safe.  How 
often  I  have  heard  one  regiment  compared  with  another,  when  the 
cause  of  the  difference  was  not  comprehended  by  those  who  drew  the 
comparison !  I  knew  the  cause,  it  was  the  home  education. 

We  see  the  same  every  day  in  the  busy  life  of  the  city.  Call 
together  one  hundred  young  men  in  our  city,  and  spend  an  evening 
with  them,  and  we  will  tell  you  their  home  education.  Watch  them 
as  they  approach  young  ladies,  and  converse  with  them,  and  we  will 
show  you  who  have  been  trained  under  the  influence  of  home  affec- 
tion and  politeness,  and  those  who  have  not. 

That  young  man  who  was  accustomed  to  kiss  his  sweet,  innocent, 
loving  sister  night  and  morning  as  they  met,  shows  its  influence 
upon  him,  and  he  will  never  forget  it,  and  when  he  shall  take  some 

121 


HOME    TEACHING. 

one  to  his  heart  as  his  wife,  she  shall  reap  the  golden  fruit  thereof 
The  young  man  who  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  his  arm  to  hits 
sister  as  they  walked  to  and  from  church,  will  never  leave  his  wife 
to  find  her  way  as  best  she  can.  The  young  man  who  has  been 
taught  to  see  that  his  sister  had  a  seat  before  he  sought  his,  will 
never  mortify  a  neglected  wife  in  the  presence  of  strangers.  And 
that  young  man  who  always  handed  his  sister  to  her  chair  at  the 
table,  will  never  have  cause  to  blush  as  he  sees  some  gentleman 
extend  to  his  wife  the  courtesy  she  knows  is  due  from  him. 

Mothers  and  daughters,  wives  and  sisters,  remember  that,  and 
remember  that  you  have  the  making  of  the  future  of  this  great 
country,  and  rise  at  once  to  your  high  and  holy  duty.  Remember 
that  you  must  make  that  future,  whether  you  will  or  not.  We  are 
all  what  you  make  us.  Ah !  throw  away  your  weakening  follies  of 
fashion,  and  soul-famine,  and  rise  to  the  level  where  God  intended 
you  should  be,  and  make  every  one  of  your  homes,  from  this  day, 
schools  of  true  politeness  and  tender  affection.  Take  those  little 
curly-headed  boys,  and  teach  them  all  you  would  have  men  to  be, 
and  my  word  for  it,  they  will  be  just  such  men,  and  will  go  forth  to 
bless  the  world,  and  crown  you  with  a  glory  such  as  queens  and 
empresses  never  dreamed  of.  Wield  your  power  now,  and  you  shall 
reap  the  fruit  in  your  ripe  age. 


HOME   TEACHING. 

James  Thomson. 

8ELIGHTFUL  task  !  to  rear  the  tender  thought, 
To  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot, 
To  pour  the  fresh  instruction  o'er  the  mind, 
To  breathe  the  enliv'ning  spirit,  and  to  fix 
The  generous  purpose  in  the  glowing  breast. 
122 


HOME    INSTRUCTION. 

Hon.  Schuyler  Golfax. 

BOYE  all  things,  teach  children  what  their  life  is.  It  is  not 
breathing,  moving,  playing,  sleeping,  simply.  Life  is  a  battle. 
All  thoughtful  people  see  it  so.  A  battle  between  good  and 
evil,  from  childhood.  Good  influences,  drawing  us  up,  toward  the 
divine ;  bad  influences,  drawing  us  down  to  the  brute.  Midway  we 
stand,  between  the  divine  and  the  brute.  How  to  cultivate  the  good 
side  of  the  nature  is  the  greatest  lesson  of  life  to  teach.  Teach  chil- 
dren that  they  lead  these  two  lives :  the  life  without,  and  the  life 
within ;  and  that  the  inside  must  be  pure  in  the  sight  of  God,  as 
well  as  the  outside  in  the  sight  of  men. 

There  are  five  means  of  learning.     These  are  : 

Observation,  reading,  conversation,  memory,  reflection. 

Educators  sometimes,  in  their  anxiety  to  secure  a  wide  range  of 
studies,  don't  sufficiently  impress  upon  their  scholars  the  value  of 
memory.  Now,  our  memory  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  gifts 
God  has  bestowed  upon  us ;  and  one  of  the  most  mysterious.  Take 
a  tumbler  and  pour  water  into  it ;  by-and-by  you  can  pour  no  more ; 
it  is  full.  It  is  not  so  with  the  mind.  You  cannot  fill  it  full  of 
knowledge  in  a  whole  life-time.  Pour  in  all  you  please,  and  it  still 
thirsts  for  more. 

Remember  this : 

Knowledge  is  not  what  you  learn,  but  what  you  remember. 

It  is  not  what  you  eat,  but  what  you  digest,  that  makes  you 
grow. 

It  is  not  the  money  you  handle,  but  that  you  keep,  that  makes 
you  rich. 

123 


HOME    INFLUENCES. 

It  is  not  what  you  study,  but  what  you  remember  and  refioct 
upon,  that  makes  you  learned. 

One  more  suggestion : 

Above  all  things  else,  strive  to  fit  the  children  in  your  charge,  to 
be  useful  men  and  women ;  men  and  women  you  may  be  proud  of 
in  after-life.  While  they  are  young,  teach  them  that  far  above 
physical  courage — which  will  lead  them  to  face  the  cannon's  mouth 
— above  wealth — which  would  give  them  farms  and  houses,  and 
bank  stocks  and  gold — is  moral  courage.  That  courage  by  which 
they  will  stand  fearlessly,  frankly,  firmly,  for  the  right.  Every  man 
or  woman  who  dares  to  stand  for  the  right  when  evil  has  its  legions, 
is  the  true  moral  victor  in  this  life,  and  in  the  land  beyond  the  stars. 


HOME    INFLUENCES. 


HERE  is  music  in  the  word  home.     To  the  old  it  brings  a 


bewitching  strain  from  the  harp  of  memory ;  to  the  young 
it  is  a  reminder  of  all  that  is  near  and  dear  to  them. 
Among  the  many  songs  we  are  wont  to  listen  to,  there  is  not  one 
more  cherished  than  the  touching  melody  of  "  Home,  Sweet 
Home." 

Will  you  go  back  with  me  a  few  years,  dear  reader,  in  the  history 
of  the  past,  and  traverse  in  imagination  the  gay  streets  and  gilded 
saloons  of  Paris,  that  once  bright  center  of  the  world's  follies  and 
pleasures?  Passing  through  its  splendid  thoroughfares  is  one  (an 
Englishman)  who  has  left  his  home  and  native  land  to  view  the 
splendors  and  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  a  foreign  country.  He  has 
beheld  with  delight  its  paintings,  its  sculpture,  and  the  grand  yet 

124 


HOME    INFLUENCES. 

graceful  proportions  of  its  buildings,  and  has  yielded  to  the  spell  of 
the  sweetest  muse.  Yet,  in  the  midst  of  his  keenest  happiness,  when 
he  was  rejoicing  most  over  the  privileges  he  possessed,  temptations 
assailed  him.  Sin  was  presented  to  him  in  one  of  its  most  bewitch- 
ing garbs.  He  drank  wildly  and  deeply  of  the  intoxicating  cup,  and 
his  draught  brought  madness.  Reason  was  overwhelmed,  and  he 
rushed  out,  all  his  scruples  overcome,  careless  of  what  he  did  or  how 
deeply  he  became  immersed  in  the  hitherto  unknown  sea  of  guilt. 

The  cool  night  air  lifted  the  damp  locks  from  his  heated  brow, 
and  swept  with  soothing  touch  over  his  flushed  cheeks.  "Walking 
on,  calmer,  but  no  less  determined,  strains  of  music  from  a  distance 
met  his  ear.  Following  in  the  direction  the  sound  indicated,  he  at 
length  distinguished  the  words  and  air.  The  song  was  well  remem- 
bered. It  was  "  Home,  Sweet  Home."  Clear  and  sweet  the  voice 
of  some  English  singer  rose  and  fell  on  the  air,  in  the  soft  cadences 
of  that  beloved  melody. 

Motionless,  the  wanderer  listened  till  the  last  note  floated  away 
and  he  could  hear  nothing  but  the  ceaseless  murmur  of  a  great  city. 
Then  he  turned  slowly,  with  no  feeling  that  his  manhood  was 
shamed  by  the  tear  which  fell  as  a  bright  evidence  of  the  power  of 
song. 

The  demon  that  dwells  in  the  wine  had  fled ;  and  reason  once 
more  asserted  her  right  to  control.  As  the  soft  strains  of  "  Sweet 
Home  "  had  floated  to  his  ear,  memory  brought  up  before  him  his 
own  "  sweet  home."  He  saw  his  gentle  mother,  and  heard  her  speak, 
while  honest  pride  beamed  from  her  eye,  of  her  son,  in  whose  noble- 
ness and  honor  she  could  always  trust ;  and  his  heart  smote  him  as 
he  thought  how  little  he  deserved  such  confidence.  He  remembered 
her  last  words  of  love  and  counsel,  and  the  tearful  farewell  of  all  those 
dear  ones  who  gladdened  that  far-away  home  with  their  presence. 
Well  he  knew  their  pride  in  his  integrity,  and  the  tide  of  remorse 

125 


THE     SMILES    OF    HOME. 

swept  over  his  spirit  as  he  felt  what  their  sorrow  would  be  could 
they  have  Been  him  an  hour  before.  Subdued  and  repentant,  he 
retraced  his  steps,  and  with  this  vow  never  to  taste  of  the  terrible 
draught  that  could  so  excite  him  to  madness  was  mingled  a  deep 
sense  of  thankfulness  for  his  escape  from  further  degradation.  The 
influence  of  home  had  protected  him,  though  the  sea  rolled  between. 
None  can  tell  how  often  the  commission  of  crime  is  prevented 
by  such  memories.  If,  then,  the  spell  of  home  is  so  powerful,  how 
important  it  is  to  make  it  pleasant  and  lovable !  Many  a  time  a 
cheerful  home  and  smiling  face  does  more  to  make  good  men  and 
women,  than  all  the  learning  and  eloquence  that  can  be  used.  It 
has  been  said  that  the  sweetest  words  in  our  language  are  "  Mother, 
Home  and  Heaven ;"  and  one  might  almost  say  the  word  home 
included  them  all ;  for  who  can  think  of  home  without  remembering 
the  gentle  mother  who  sanctified  it  by  her  presence  ?  And  is  not 
home  the  dearest  name  for  heaven  ?  "We  think  of  that  better  land 
as  a  home  where  brightness  will  never  end  in  night.  Oh,  then,  may 
our  homes  on  earth  be  the  centers  of  all  our  joys ;  may  they  be  as 
green  spots  in  the  desert,  to  which  we  can  retire  when  weary  of  the 
cares  and  perplexities  of  life,  and  drink  the  clear  waters  of  a  love 
which  we  know  to  be  sincere  and  always  unfailing. — Saturday 
Evening  Post. 


THE    SMILES    OF    HOME. 

John  Keiif 

WEET  is  the  smile  of  home ;  the  mutual  look 
Where  hearts  are  of  each  other  sure  ; 
Sweet  all  the  joys  that  crowd  the  household  "nook. 
The  haunt  of  all  affections  pure. 
126 


HOME  COURTESY. 

0  pleasaiiter  sight  is  there,  than  a  family  of  young  folks  who 
are  quick  to  perform  little  acts  of  attention  toward  their 
elders.  The  placing  of  the  big  arm-chair  for  mamma,  run- 
ning for  a  footstool  for  aunty,  hunting  up  papa's  spectacles,  and' 
scores  of  little  deeds,  show  the  tender  sympathy  of  gentle  loving 
hearts ;  but  if  mamma  never  returns  a  smiling  "  Thank  you,  dear  ;  "" 
if  papa's  "  Just  what  I  was  wanting,  Susie,"  does  not  indicate  that 
the  little  attention  is  appreciated,  the  children  soon  drop  the  habit. 
Little  people  are  imitative  creatures,  and  quickly  catch  the  spirit 
surrounding  them.  So  if,  when  the  mother's  spool  of  cotton  roll- 
from  her  lap,  the  father  stoops  to  pick  it  up,  bright  eyes  will  see  the 
act,  and  quick  minds  make  a  note  of  it.  By  example,  a  thousand 
times  more  quickly  than  by  precept,  can  children  be  taught  to  speak 
kindly  to  each  other,  to  acknowledge  favors,  to  be  gentle  and 
unselfish,  to  be  thoughtful  and  considerate  of  the  comfort  of  the 
family.  The  boys,  with  inward  pride  of  their  father's  courteous 
demeanor,  will  be  chivalrous  and  helpful  to  their  own  young  sisters ;. 
the  girls,  imitating  their  mother,  will  be  patient  and  gentle,  even 
when  big  brothers  are  noisy  and  heedless.  In  the  homes  where  true 
courtesy  prevails,  it  seems  to  meet  you  on  the  threshold.  You  feel 
the  kindly  welcome  on  entering.  No  angry  voices  are  heard  up- 
stairs. No  sullen  children  are  sent  from  the  room.  No  peremptory 
orders  are  given  to  cover  the  delinquencies  of  house-keeping  or 
servants.  A  delightful  atmosphere  pervades  the  house — unmistak- 
able, yet  indescribable. 

Such  a  house,  filled  by  the  spirit  of  love,  is  a  home  indeed  to  all: 

127 


THE  HAPPY  HOME — HOME  OF  OUR  CHILDHOOD. 

who  enter  within  its  consecrated  walls.  And  it  is  of  such  a  home 
that  the  Master  said,  "And  into  whatsoever  house  ye  enter,  first  say, 
Peace  be  to  this  house.  And  if  the  Son  of  Peace  be  there,  your 
peace  shall  rest  upon  it."  Luke  x.  5,  6. 

"  Blest  are  the  sons  of  peace, 

Whose  hearts  and  hopes  are  one ; 
Whose  kind  designs  to  serve  and  please, 
Through  all  their  actions  run. 

"  Thus  on  the  heavenly  hills, 

The  saints  are  blessed  above ; 
Where  joy  like  morming  dew  distills, 
And  all  the  air  is  love."  — Anonymous, 


THE    HAPPY  HOME. 

Martin  F. 

§  HAPPY  home  !     O,  bright  and  cheerful  hearth ! 
Look  round  with  me,  my  lover,  friend,  and  wife, 
On  these  fair  faces  we  have  lit  with  life, 
And  in  the  perfect  blessing  of  their  birth, 
Help  me  to  live  our  thanks  for  so  much  heaven  on  earth. 


HOME    OF    OUH    CHILDHOOD. 

Oliver  WendeU  Holme* 

[OME  of  our  childhood !    How  affection  clings 
And  hovers  round  thee  with  her  seraph  wings ! 
Dearer  thy  hills,  though  clad  in  autumn  brown, 
Than  fairest  summits  which  the  cedars  crown ; 
Sweeter  the  fragrance  of  thy  summer  breeze, 
Than  all  Arabia  breathes  along  the  seas  ! 
The  stranger's  gale  wafts  home  the  exile's  sigh, 

For  the  heart's  temple  is  its  own  blue  sky. 

128 


AST    IDEAL    HOME. 

Samuel  Roger*. 
IN"E  be  a  cot  beside  the  hill ; 

A  bee-hive's  hum  shall  soothe  my  ear ; 
A  willowy  brook,  that  turns  a  mill, 
With  many  a  fall,  shall  linger  near. 

The  swallow  oft,  beneath  my  thatch, 
Shall  twitter  near  her  clay-built  nest ; 
Oft  shall  the  pilgrim  lift  the  latch, 
And  share  my  meal,  a  welcome  guest. 

Around  my  ivied  porch  shall  spring 
Each  fragrant  flower  that  drinks  the  dew  ; 
And  Lucy,  at  her  wheel,  shall  sing, 
In  russet  gown  and  apron  blue. 

The  village  church  beneath  the  trees, 
Where  first  our  marriage  vows  were  given. 
With  merry  peals  shall  swell  the  breeze, 
And  point  with  taper  spire  to  heaven. 


HOME. 

James  Thomson. 
rOME  is  the  resort 

Of  love,  of  joy,  of  peace,  and  plenty,  where 
Supporting  and  supported,  polish'd  friends, 
And  dear  relations  mingle  into  bliss, 
i  129 


HOME    RELIGION. 

HOUSE  may  be  full  of  persons  who  are  very  dear  to  each 
other,  very  kind  to  each  other;  full  of  precious  things, — 
affections,  hopes,  living  interests ;  but  if  God  is  not  there  ae 
the  Ruler  and  Father  of  the  house,  the  original  and  true  idea  of 
home  will  not  be  realized  ;  vacancy  and  need  will  still  be  at  the 
heart  of  all.  Good  things  will  grow  feebly  and  uncertainly,  like 
flowers  in  winter,  trying  to  peep  out  into  sunshine,  yet  shrinking 
from  the  blast.  Evil  things  will  grow  with  strange  persistency,  not- 
withstanding protests  of  the  affections  and  efforts  of  the  will. 
Mysterious  gulfs  will  open  at  times  where  it  was  thought  strong 
foundations  had  been  laid.  Little  things  will  produce  great  distress. 
Great  things,  when  attained,  will  shrink  to  littleness.  Flickerings  of 
uncertainty  and  fear  will  run  along  the  days.  Joys  will  not  satisfy. 
Sorrow  will  surprise. 

In  the  very  heart  of  the  godless  home  there  will  be  sickness, 
arising  from  need  unsatisfied  and  "  hope  deferred."  It  vrill  be  as 
when  a  man  of  ingenuity  tries  in  vain  to  put  together  the  separated 
parts  of  a  complicated  piece  of  mechanism.  He  tries  in  this  way 
and  that,  puts  the  pieces  into  every  conceivable  mode  of  arrange- 
ment, then  at  last  stops,  and  says :  "  There  must  be  a  piece  want- 
ing" 

Home  without  Divine  presence  is  at  best  a  moral  structure  with 
the  central  element  wanting.  The  other  elements  may  be  arranged 
and  re-arranged ;  they  will  never  exactly  fit,  nor  be  "  compact 
together,"  until  it  is  obtained.  "We  have  heard  of  haunted  houses. 
That  house  will  be  haunted  with  the  ghost  of  an  unrealized  idea.  1 1 

130 


HOME    RELIGION. 

i 

will  seem  to  its  most  thoughtful  inmates  at  best  but  "  the  shadow  of 
some  good  thing  to  come  ;"  and  the  longing  for  the  substance  will 
be  the  more  intense,  because  the  shadow,  as  a  providential  prophecy, 
is  always  there. 

In  many  a  house  there  is  going  on,  by  means  of  those  quick 
spiritual  sighs  by  which  One  above  can  read,  what  we  may  call  a 
dialogue  of  souls,  composed  chiefly  of  unspoken  questions,  which,  if 
articulate,  might  be  something  like  the  following: — "  How  is  it  that 
we  cannot  be  to  each  other  as  we  wish,  that  we  cannot  do  for  each 
other  what  we  try,  even  when  it  seems  to  be  quite  within  the  range 
of  possibility  ?  Why  is  there  such  a  sorrow  in  our  affection  ?  such 
a  trembling  in  our  joys  ?  so  great  a  fear  of  change,  and  so  profound 
a  sense  of  incompleteness  in  connection  with  the  very  best  we  can 
do  and  be  ?  " 

And  what  is  the  answer  to  such  mute  yet  eager  questionings  ? 
And  who  can  speak  that  answer  ?  That  One  above  who  hears  the 
dialogue  must  take  part  in  it ;  and  all  must  listen  while  He  speaks, 
and  tells  of  another  fatherhood,  under  which  the  parents  must 
become  little  children,  of  another  brotherhood  which,  when  attained, 
will  make  the  circle  complete.  When  the  members  of  such. a  house- 
hold, who  have  been  looking  so  much  to  each  other,  shall  agree  to 
give  one  earnest  look  above,  and  say,  "Our  Father,  which  art  in 
heaven  ! "  "  our  elder  Brother,  and  Advocate  with  the  Father ! " 
then  will  come  back,  sweet  as  music,  into  the  heart  of  that  house, 
these  fulfilling  words  from  the  everlasting  Father,  "  Ye  shall  be  my 
sons  and  daughters ; "  from  the  eternal  Son,  "  Behold  my  mother 
and  sister  and  brother ! "  Then  the  one  thing  that  was  lacking  will 
be  present.  The  missing  element  will  be  in  its  place,  and  all  the 
other  elements  will  be  assembled  around  it.  It  is  a  haunted  house 
no  more.  The  ghost  has  been  chased  away.  The  house  is  whole- 
Rome.  Mornings  are  welcome.  Nights  are  restful.  The  aching 

181 


KIND    WORDS    AT    HOME — A    HAPPY    HOME     DEFINED. 

sorrow  has  passed  away  now  from  the  heart  of  that  home.  Thu 
long-sought  secret  is  revealed.  Soul  whispers  to  soul,  "  Emmanuel, 
God  with  us."  Home  is  home  at  last. — Mothers  Treasury. 


KIND    WORDS    AT    HOME. 

PEAK  kindly  in  the  morning  ;  it  lightens  the  cares  of  thd  day, 
and  makes  the  household  and  all  other  affairs  move  .Jong 
more  smoothly. 

Speak  kindly  at  night,  for  it  may  be  that  before  the  dawn  some 
loved  one  may  finish  his  or  her  space  of  life,  and  it  will  be  too  late 
to  ask  forgiveness. 

Speak  kindly  at  all  times ;  it  encourages  the  downcast,  cheers 
the  sorrowing,  and  very  likely  awakens  the  erring  to  earnest 
resolves  to  do  better,  with  strength  to  keep  them. 

Kind  words  are  balm  to  the  soul.  They  oil  up  the  ent'rc 
machinery  of  life,  and  keep  it  in  good  running  order. 


A    HAPPY    HOME    DEFINED. 

Rev.  Dr.  Hamilton. 

IX  things  are  requisite  to  create  a  happy  home.  Integrity  must 
be  the  architect,  and  tidiness  the  upholsterer.  It  must  bo 
warmed  by  affection,  and  lightened  up  with  cheerfulness,  and 
industry  must  be  the  ventilator,  renewing  the  atmosphere  and 
bringing  in  fresh  salubrity  day  by  day ;  while  over  all,  as  a  protect- 
ing canopy  and  glory,  nothing  will  suffice  except  the  blessings  of 
God. 

132 


FAMILY    PKAYERS. 


are  ^ar  fr°m  thinking  that  the  good  old  custom  of  having 
family  prayers  is  being  dropped  from  Christian  house- 
holds. It  is  a  custom  held  in  honor  wherever  there  is 
real  Christian  life,  and  it  is  the  one  thing  which,  more  than  any 
other,  knits  together  the  loose  threads  of  a  home  and  unites  its  vari- 
ous members  before  God.  The  short  religious  service  in  which 
parents,  children  and  friends  daily  join  in  praise  and  prayer,  is  at 
once  an  acknowledgment  of  dependence  on  the  heavenly  Father  and 
a  renewal  of  consecration  to  his  work  in  the  world.  The  Bible  is 
read,  the  hymn  is  sung,  the  petition  is  offered,  and  unless  all  has 
been  done  as  a  mere  formality  and  without  hearty  assent,  those  who 
have  gathered  at  the  family  altar  leave  it  helped,  soothed,  strength- 
ened, and  armored,  as  they  were  not  before  they  met  there.  The 
sick  and  the  absent  are  remembered.  The  tempted  and  the  tried 
are  commended  to  God,  and,  as  the  Israelites  in  the  desert  were 
attended  by  the  pillar  and  the  cloud,  so  in  life's  wilderness  the 
family  who  inquire  of  the  Lord  are  constantly  overshadowed  by  his 
presence  and  love. 

There  are  many  reasons  which  are  allowed  to  interfere  with  and 
thrust  aside  the  privilege  of  family  prayer  in  homes  where  father 
and  mother  mean  to  have  it  daily. 

Whatever  comes  in  the  way  of  a  plain  duty  ought,  however,  to 
be  set  aside.  If  there  be  any  among  our  readers  who  recognize  the 
need  there  is  in  their  house  to  have  a  daily  open  worship  of  God,  let 
them  begin  it  at  once.  They  must  find  the  time,  choose  the  place, 
and  appoint  the  way.  The  actual  time  spent  in  worship  may  be  a 

133 


FREQUENT     PEAYEfi.   . 

few  minutes  only.  A  brief  service  which  cannot  tire  the  youngest 
fhild,  if  held  unvaryingly  as  the  sun,  in  the  morning  when  the  day 
begins,  and  in  the  evening  when  its  active  labors  close,  is  far  more 
useful  and  edifying  than  a  long  one  which  fatigues  attention. 

It  is  possible  to  have  a  daily  worship  which  shall  be  earnest,  vivi- 
fying, tender  and  reverential,  and  yet  a  weariness  to  nobody.  Only 
let  the  one  who  conducts  it  mean  toward  the  Father  the  sweet  obe- 
dience of  the  grateful  child,  and  maintain  the  attitude  of  one  who 
goes  about  earthly  affairs  with  a  soul  looking  beyond  and  above 
them  to  the  rest  that  remaineth  in  heaven.  It  is  not  every  one  who 
is  able  to  pray  in  the  hearing  of  others  with  ease.  The  timid  tongue 
falters,  and  the  thoughts  struggle  in  vain  for  utterance.  But  who  is 
there  who  cannot  read  a  Psalm,  or  a  chapter,  or  a  cluster  of  verses, 
and,  kneeling,  repeat  in  accents  of  tender  trust  the  Lord's  prayer  ? 
When  we  think  of  it,  that  includes  everything. — Christian  at 
Work. 


FREQUENT    PRAYER. 

Bishop  Taylor. 

|RAYER  is  the  key  to  open  the  day,  and  the  bolt  to  shut 
in  the  night.  But  as  the  clouds  drop  the  early  dew,  and 
the  evening  dew  upon  the  grass,  yet  it  would  not  spring  and 
grow  green  by  that  constant  and  double  falling  of  the  dew,  unless 
some  great  shower  at  certain  seasons  did  supply  the  rest ;  so  the 
customary  devotion  of  prayer  twice  a  day,  is  the  falling  of  the  early 
and  latter  dew.  But  if  you  will  increase  and  flourish  in  works  of 
grace,  empty  the  great  clouds  sometimes,  and  let  them  fall  in  a 
full  shower  of  prayer.  Choose  out  seasons  when  prayer  shall  over 
flow  like  Jordan  in  time  of  harvest. 

134 


NO    TIME    TO    PEAT. 

0  time  to  pray ! 

Oh,  who  so  fraught  with  earthly  car* 
As  not  to  give  to  humble  prayer 
Some  part  of  day  ? 

No  time  to  pray ! 

What  heart  so  clean,  so  pure  within, 
That  needeth  not  some  check  from  sin, 

Needs  not  to  pray  ? 

No  time  to  pray  ! 

'Mid  each  day's  danger,  what  retreat 
More  needful  than  the  mercy-seat  ? 

Who  need  not  pray  ? 

No  time  to  pray ! 

Then  sure  your  record  f alleth  short ; 
Excuse  will  fail  you  as  resort, 

On  that  last  day. 

What  thought  more  drear, 
Than  that  our  God  his  face  should  hide, 
And  say  through  all  life's  swelling  tide, 

No  time  to  hear ! — Anonymous. 


A  LWAYS  leave  the  home  with  loving  words,  for  they  may  be 

the  last. 


135 


THE    CHILDREN. 

Dickenson* 

the  lessons  and  tasks  are  all  ended, 
And  the  school  for  the  day  is  dismissed, 
And  the  little  ones  gather  around  me, 
To  bid  me  good-night  and  be  kissed  ; 
Oh,  the  little  white  arms  that  encircle 

My  neck  in  a  tender  embrace  ! 
Oh,  the  smiles  that  are  halos  of  heaven, 
Shedding  sunshine  of  love  on  my  face ! 

And  when  they  are  gone  I  sit  dreaming 

Of  my  childhood  too  lovely  to  last ; 
Of  love  that  my  heart  will  remember, 

When  it  wakes  to  the  pulse  of  the  past, 
Ere  the  world  and  its  wickedness  made  me 

A  partner  of  sorrow  and  sin  ; 
When  the  glory  of  God  was  about  me, 

And  the  glory  of  gladness  within. 

Oh !  my  heart  grows  weak  as  a  woman's, 

And  the  fountain  of  feeling  will  flow, 
When  I  think  of  the  paths  steep  and  stony, 

Where  the  feet  of  the  dear  ones  must  go  ; 

O       " 

Of  the  mountains  of  sin  hanging  o'er  them, 

Of  the  tempest  of  fate  blowing  wild ! 
Oh  1  there  is  nothing  on  earth  half  so  holy 

As  the  innocent  heart  of  a  child. 
136 


THE    CHILDREN. 

They  are  idols  of  hearts  and  of  households ; 

They  are  angels  of  God  in  disguise ; 
His  sunlight  still  sleeps  in  their  tresses, 

His  glory  still  gleams  in  their  eyes ; 
Oh !  these  truants  from  home  and  from  heaven 

They  have  made  me  more  manly  and  mild, 
And  I  know  how  Jesus  could  liken 

The  kingdom  of  God  to  a  child. 

I  ask  not  a  life  for  the  dear  ones, 

All  radiant,  as  others  have  done, 
But  that  life  may  have  enough  shadow 

To  temper  the  glare  of  the  sun ; 
I  would  pray  God  to  guard  them  from  evil, 

But  my  prayer  would  come  back  to  myself ; 
Ah,  a  seraph  may  pray  for  a  sinner, 

But  a  sinner  must  pray  for  himself. 

The  twig  is  so  easily  bended, 

I  have  banished  the  rule  and  the  rod ; 
I  have  taught  them  the  goodness  of  knowledge, 

They  have  taught  me  the  goodness  of  God ; 
My  heart  is  a  dungeon  of  darkness, 

Where  I  shut  them  from  breaking  a  rule  ; 
My  frown  is  sufficient  correction ; 

My  love  is  the  law  of  the  school. 

I  shall  leave  the  old  house  in  the  autumn, 
To  traverse  its  threshold  no  more  ; 

Ah,  how  I  shall  sigh  for  the  dear  ones, 
That  meet  me  each  morn  at  the  door, 
137 


THE    CHILDREN. 

I  shall  miss  the  "  good-nights  "  and  the  kisses, 
And  the  gush  of  their  innocent  glee, 

The  group  on  the  green,  and  the  flowers 
That  are  brought  every  morning  to  me. 

I  shall  miss  them  at  morn  and  evening, 

Their  song  in  the  school  and  the  street ; 
I  shall  miss  the  low  hum  of  their  voices, 

And  the  tramp  of  their  delicate  feet. 
"When  the  lessons  and  tasks  are  all  ended, 

And  death  says  :  "  The  school  is  dismissed," 
May  the  little  ones  gather  around  me, 

To  bid  me  good-night  and  be  kissed. 


THE    CHILDKEN. 

H.  W.  Longfellow. 

what  would  the  world  be  to  us 
If  the  children  were  no  more  ? 
We  should  dread  the  desert  behind  us 
Worse  than  the  dark  before. 

What  the  leaves  are  to  the  forest, 

With  light  and  air  for  food, 
Ere  their  sweet  and  tender  juices 

Have  been  hardened  into  wood — 

That,  to  the  world,  are  children  ; 

Through  them  it  feels  the  glow 
Of  a  brighter  and  sunnier  climate 

Than  reaches  the  trunks  below. 
138 


THE    RIGHTS    OF    CHILDREN. 

>HE  child  has  a  right  to  ask  questions  and  to  be  fairly 
answered ;  not  to  be  snubbed  as  if  he  were  guilty  of  an 
impertinence,  nor  ignored  as  though  his  desire  for  informa- 
tion were  of  no  consequence,  nor  misled  as  if  it  did  not  signify 
whether  true  or  false  impressions  were  made  upon  his  mind. 

The  child  lias  a  right  to  his  individuality,  to  be  himself  and  no 
other ;  to  maintain  against  the  world  the  divine  fact  for  which  he 
stands.  And  before  this  fact  father,  mother,  instructor  should  stand 
reverently ;  seeking  rather  to  understand  and  interpret  its  signifi- 
cance than  to  wrest  it  from  its  original  purpose.  It  is  not  neces- 
sarily to  be  inscribed  with  the  family  name,  nor  written  over  with 
family. traditions.  Nature  delights  in  surprise  and  will  not  guarantee 
that  the  children  of  her  poets  shall  sing,  nor  that  every  Quaker  baby 
shall  take  kindly  to  drab  color,  or  have  an  inherent  longing  for  a 
scoop-bonnet  or  a  broad-brimmed  hat. 

In  the  very  naming  of  a  child  his  individuality  should  be  recog- 
nized. He  should  not  be  invested  with  the  cast-off  cognomen  of 
some  dead  ancestor  or  historical  celebrity,  a  name  musty  as  the 
grave-clothes  of  tne  original  wearer — dolefully  redolent  of  old  asso- 
ciations— a  ghostly  index-linger  forever  pointing  to  the  past.  Let  it 
be  something  fresh  ;  a  new  name  standing  for  a  new  fact,  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  history  yet  to  be  written,  a  prophecy  to  be  fulfilled. 
The  ass  was  well  enough  clothed  in  his  own  russet ;  but  when  he 
would  put  on  the  skin  of  the  lion,  every  attribute  became  contempt! 
ble.  Commonplace  people  slip  easily  through  the  world ;  but  when 
we  would  find  them  heralded  by  great  names,  we  resent  the  incon 

139 


SUFFERINGS    OF    CHILDHOOD. 

gruity,  and  insist  upon  making  them  less  than  they  are.  George 
Washington  selling  peanuts,  Julius  Csesar  as  a  bootblack,  and  Yirgil 
a  vender  of  old  clothes,  make  but  a  sorry  figure. 

We  are  indebted  to  our  children  for  constant  incentives  to  noble 
living ;  for  the  perpetual  reminder  that  we  do  not  live  to  ourselves 
alone  ;  for  their  sakes  we  are  admonished  to  put  from  us  the  debas- 
ing appetite,  the  unworthy  impulse ;  to  gather  into  our  lives  every 
noble  and  heroic  quality,  every  tender  and  attractive  grace. 

"We  owe  them  gratitude  for  the  dark  hours  which  their  presence 
has  brightened,  for  the  helplessness  and  dependence  which  have  won 
us  from  ourselves ;  for  the  faith  and  trust  which  it  is  evermore  their 
mission  to  renew ;  for  their  kisses  on  cheeks  wet  with  tears,  and  on 
brows  that  but  for  that  caressing  had  furrowed  into  frowns. — LitteWs 
Lmvng  Age. 


SUFFERINGS    OF    CHILDHOOD. 

>HE  sufferings  of  a  bashful  boy!  Can  torture  chamber  be 
more  dreadful  than  the  juvenile  party,  the  necessary  parade 
of  the  Christmas-dinner,  to  a  shy  boy  ?  I  have  sometimes 
taken  the  hand  of  such  a  one,  and  have  found  it  cold  and  clammy ; 
desperate  was  the  struggle  of  that  young  soul,  afraid  of  he  knew  not 
what,  caught  by  the  machinery  of  society,  which  mangled  him  ar 
every  point,  crushed  every  nerve,  and  filled  him  with  faintness  and 
fear.  How  happy  he  might  have  been  with  that  brood  of  young 
puppies  in  the  barn,  or  the  soft  rabbits  in  their  nest  of  hay !  How 
grand  he  was,  paddling  his  poor  leaky  boat  down  the  rapids,  jump- 
ing into  the  river,  and  dragging  it  with  his  splendid  strength  over 
the  rocks !  Nature  and  he  were  friends ;  he  was  not  afraid  of  her  ; 

140 


SUFFERINGS    OF    CHILDHOOD. 

*he  recognized  her  child  and  greeted  him  with  smiles.  The  young 
animals  loved  him,  and  his  dog  looked  up  into  his  fair  blue  eyes,  and 
recognized  his  king.  But  this  creature  must  be  tamed  ;  he  must  be 
brought  into  prim  parlors,  and  dine  with  propriety ;  he  must  dress 
himself  in  garments  which  scratch,  and  pull,  and  hurt  him ;  boots 
must  be  put  on  his  feet  which  pinch ;  he  must  be  clean, — terrible 
injustice  to  a  faun  who  loves  to  roll  down-hill,  to  grub  for  roots,  to 
follow  young  squirrels  to  their  lair,  and  to  polish  old  guns  rather 
than  his  manner. 

And  then  the  sensitive  boy,  who  has  a  finer  grain  than  the 
majrrity  of  his  fellows,  suddenly  thrown  into  the  pandemonium  of  a 
public  school !  Nails  driven  into  the  flesh  could  not  inflict  such 
pain  as  such  a  one  suffers ;  and  the  scars  remain.  One  gentleman 
told  me,  in  mature  life,  that  the  loss  of  a  toy  stolen  from  him  in 
childhood  still  rankled.  How  much  of  the  infirmity  of  human  char- 
acter may  be  traced  to  the  anger,  the  sense  of  wounded  feeling, 
engendered  by  a  wrong  done  in  childhood  when  one  is  helpless  to 
avenge ! 

All  this  may  be  called  the  necessary  hardening  process,  but  I  do 
not  believe  in  it.  "We  have  learned  how  to  temper  iron  and  steel, 
but  we  have  not  learned  how  to  treat  children.  Could  it  be  made  a 
money-making  process,  like  the  Bessemer,  I  believe  one  could  learn 
how  to  temper  the  human  character.  Our  instincts  of  intense  love 
for  our  children  are  not  enough  ;  we  should  study  it  as  a  science. 
The  human  race  is  very  busy ;  it  has  to  take  care  of  itself,  and  to 
feed  its  young ;  it  must  conquer  the  earth — perhaps  it  has  not  time 
to  study  Jim  and  Jack  and  Charley,  and  Mary  and  Emily  and  Jane, 
as  problems.  But,  if  it  had,  would  it  not  perhaps  pay?  There 
would  be  fewer  criminals. 

Many  observers  recommend  a  wise  neglect — not  too  much  in- 
quiry, but  a  judicious  surrounding  of  the  best  influences,  and  then 

HI 


GOVERNMENT    OF    CHILDREN. 

—let  your  young  plant  grow  up.  Yes  ;  but  it  should  be  a  very  wise 
neglect— it  should  be  a  neglect  which  is  always  on  the  watch  lest- 
some  inisdious  parasite,  some  unnoticed  but  strong  bias  of  character, 
take  possession  of  the  child  and  mould  or  ruin  him.  Of  the  ten 
boys  running  up  yonder  hill,  five  will  be  failures,  two  will  be 
moderate  successes,  two  will  do  better,  one  will  be  great,  good  and 
distinguished.  If  such  are  the  terrible  statistics — and  .1  am  told  that 
they  are  so — who  is  to  blame  ?  Certainly  the  parent  or  guardian,  or 
circumstance — and  what  is  circumstance  ? — Appleton's  Journal. 


GOVERNMENT    OF    CHILDREN. 

>ITEEE  were  many  ideas  entertained  by  the  Puritan  settlers  of 
New  England  that  happily  were  not  bequeathed  to  those 
who  came  after  them,  but  in  fixing  proper  relations  between 
parents  and  children,  and  in  parental  government  generally  it  would 
have  been  better  to  have  preserved  some  of  the  inflexibility  of  dis- 
cipline that  distinguished  them.  The  youth  of  the  present  have 
their  own  way  too  much.  No  obedience  or  respect  is  exacted  from 
them  by  father  or  mother  in  many  instances,  and  they  grow  up 
selfish,  overbearing,  and  sometimes  dangerous.  The  case  of  the  boj 
in  Maine  who  a  year  or  so  ago  killed  his  father  because  he  was  angry 
with  him,  is  probably  familiar  to  all.  The  other  day  a  father  in 
New  York  was  obliged  to  complain  of  his  son  on  account  of  the 
boy's  repeated  thefts.  When  the  youth  had  been  sentenced,  he 
turned  to  his  father,  and  told  him  that  as  soon  as  he  got  out  of  jail 
he  would  "  blow  the  top  of  his  head  off."  A  few  days  since  a  young 
man  in  high  station  in  Brooklyn  tried  to  murder  his  wife.  lie  was 

142 


KIND     WORDS. 

neither  intoxicated  nor  insane.  The  only  trouble  was  that  he  had 
always  been  permitted  to  have  his  own  way,  and  the  groove  of  self- 
ishness and  petty  tyranny  to  which  he  had  been  allowed  to  shape 
himself  led  but  in  one  direction,  and  he  considered  any  means — even 
shot-guns  and  bowie-knives — justifiable  in  revenging  himself  upon 
those  who  opposed  in  the  slightest  his  wishes  or  course  of  life. 
Children  need  checks,  direction  and  good  influences.  A  well-gov- 
erned child  is  in  the  grand  majority  of  cases  sure  to  grow  into  a 
respectable  man  or  woman,  but  the  noblest  natures  may  be  blighted 
unless  the  weeds  of  untrained  propensity  are  kept  down. — Boston 
Post. 


KIND    WORDS. 

S  the  breath  of  the  dew  on  the  tender  plant,  they  gently  fall 
upon  the  drooping  heart,  refreshing  its  withered  tendrils  and 
soothing  its  burning  woes.  Bright  oases  they  are  in  life's 
great  desert.  Who  can  estimate  the  pangs  they  have  alleviated,  or 
the  good  works  they  have  accomplished?  Long  after  they  are 
uttered  do  they  reverberate  in  the  soul's  inner  chamber,  and  sing 
low,  sweet,  liquid  strains,  that  quell  all  the  raging  storms  that  may 
have  before  existed.  And  oh!  when  the  heart  is  sad,  and  like  a 
broken  harp,  the  sweetest  chords  of  pleasure  cease  to  vibrate,  who 
can  tell  the  power  of  one  kind  word  ?  One  little  word  of  tenderness 
gushing  in  upon  the  soul,  will  sweep  the  long-neglected  chords,  and 
awaken  the  most  pleasant  strains.  Kind  words  are  like  jewels  in 
the  heart,  never  to  be  forgotten,  but  perhaps  to  cheer  by  their 
memory  a  long,  sad  life.  While  words  of  cruelty  are  like  darts 
in  the  bosom,  wounding  and  leaving  scars  that  will  be  borne  to  the 
grave  by  their  victim. — Saturday  Evening  Post. 

143 


NOT    ONE    CHILD    TO    SPAKE.* 

Mrs.  Ethd  L.  Bean 

[ICH  shall  it  be  ?  Which  shall  it  be  ?  " 
I  looked  at  John — John  looked  at  me, 
(Dear,  patient  John,  who  loves  me  yet, 

As  well  as  though  my  locks  were  jet), 

And  when  I  found  that  I  must  speak, 

My  voice  seemed  strangely  low  and  weal?  : 

"  Tell  me  again  what  Eobert  said  ! " 

And  then  I  listening  bent  my  head. 

"  This  is  his  letter  : — *  I  will  give 

A  house  and  land  while  you  shall  live, 

If,  in  return,  from  out  your  seven, 

One  child  to  me  for  aye  is  given.' " 

I  looked  at  John's  old  garments  worn, 

I  thought  of  all  that  John  had  borne 

Of  poverty,  and  work,  and  care, 

Which  I,  though  willing,  could  not  share ; 

I  thought  of  seven  mouths  to  feed, 

Of  seven  little  children's  need, 

And  then  of  this. — "  Come,  John,"  said  I, 

"  We'll  choose  among  them  as  they  lie 

Asleep  ; "  so,  walking  hand  in  hand, 

Dear  John  and  I  surveyed  our  band — 

*  A  father  and  mother  in  straitened  circumstances,  with  icven  children, 
were  offered  by  a  wealthy,  but  childless  neighbor,  a  comfortable  provision,  on 
condition  that  they  would  give  him  one  of  their  children.  This  beautiful 
poem  tells  the  result. 

144 


First  to  the  cradle  lightly  stepped. 
Where  Lilian  the  baby  slept. 
A  glory  'gainst  the  pillow  white  ; 
Softly  the  father  stooped  to  lay 
His  rough  hand  down  in  loving  way, 
When  dream  or  wliisper  made  her  stir, 
And  huskily  he  said  :  "  Not  her,  not  her." 
We  stooped  beside  the  trundle-bed, 
And  one  long  ray  of  lamplight  shed 
'  Athwart  the  boyish  faces  there, 
In  sleep  so  pitiful  and  fair ; 
I  saw  on  Jamie's  rough,  red  cheek, 
A  tear  undried.     Ere  John  could  speak, 
"  He's  but  a  baby,  too,"  said  I, 
And  kissed  him  as  we  hurried  by. 
Pale  patient  Robbie's  angel  face 
Still  in  his  sleep  bore  suffering's  trace. 
"  No,  for  a  thousand  crowns,  not  him," 
He  whispered,  while  our  eyes  were  dim. 
Poor  Dick !  bad  Dick !  our  wayward  son, 
Turbulent,  reckless,  idle  one — 
Could  he  be  spared  ?     "  Nay,  He  who  gave 
Bid  us  befriend  him  to  his  grave ; 
Only  a  mother's  heart  can  be 
Patient  enough  for  such  as  he ; 
And  so,"  said  John,  "  I  would  not  dare 
To  send  him  from  her  bedside  prayer." 
Then  stole  we  softly  up  above 
And  knelt  by  Mary,  child  of  love. 
"  Perhaps  for  her  'twould  better  be," 
I  said  to  John.     Quite  silently, 

i  145 


BABIES    AND    THEIK    EIGHTS. 

He  lifted  up  a  curl  that  lay 
Across  her  cheek  in  willful  way, 
And  shook  his  head,  "  Nay,  love,  not  thee,M 
The  while  my  heart  beat  audibly. 
Only  one  more,  our  eldest  lad, 
Trusty  and  truthful,  good  and  glad — 
So  like  his  father.     "  No,  John  no— 
•I  can  not,  will  not,  let  him  go." 
And  so  we  wrote,  in  courteous  way, 
"We  could  not  drive  one  child  away ; 
And  afterward  toil  lighter  seemed, 
Thinking  of  that  of  which  we  dreamed, 
Happy  in  truth  that  not  one  face 
Was  missed  from  its  accustomed  place ; 
Thankful  to  work  for  all  the  seven, 
Trusting  the  rest  to  One  in  heaven ! 


BABIES    AND    THEIR    RIGHTS. 

M.  E.  Sangster. 

BABY  has  a  right,  too  frequently  denied  it,  to  le  let  alone. 
It  ought  to  be  a  rule  in  the  nursery  never  to  disturb  the 
infant  when  it  is  happy  and  quiet.  Older  children,  too,  two, 
three,  and  four  years  of  age,  who  are  amusing  themselves  in  a  peace- 
ful, contented  way,  ought  not  to  be  wantonly  interfered  with.  I 
have  often  seen  a  little  creature  lying  in  its  crib  cooing,  laughing, 
crooning  to  itself  in  the  sweetest  baby  fashion,  without  a  care  in  the 
world  to  vex  its  composure,  when  in  would  come  mamma  or  nurse, 
seize  it,  cover  it  with  o.ndearments,  and  effectually  break  up  its  tran- 

146 


BABIES    AND    THEIK    EIGHTS. 

quillity.  Then,  the  next  time,  when  these  thoughtless  people  wanted 
it  to  be  quiet,  they  were  surprised  that  it  refused  to  be  so.  It  is 
habit  and  training  which  make  little  children  restless  and  fretful, 
rather  than  natural  disposition,  in  a  multitude  of  cases.  A  healthy 
babe,  coolly  and  loosely  dressed,  judiciously  fed,  and  frequently 
bathed,  will  be  good  and  comfortable  if  it  have  not  too  much  atten- 
tion. But  when  it  is  liable  a  dozen  times  a  day  to  be  caught  wildly 
up,  bounced  and  jumped  about,  smothered  with  kisses,  poked  by 
facetious  fingers,  and  petted  till  it  is  thoroughly  out  of  sorts,  what 
can  be  expected  of  it  ?  How  would  fathers  and  mothers  endure  the 
martyrdom  to  which  they  allow  the  babies  to  be  subjected  ? 

Another  right  which  every  baby  has  is  to  its  own  mother's  care 
and  supervision.  The  mother  may  not  be  strong  enough  to  hold  her 
child  and  carry  it  about,  to  go  with  it  on  its  outings,  and  to  person- 
ally attend  to  all  its  wants.  Yery  often  it  is  really  better  for  both 
mother  and  child  that  the  strong  arms  of  an  able-bodied  woman 
should  bear  it  through  its  months  of  helplessness.  Still,  no  matter 
how  apparently  worthy  of  trust  a  nurse  or  servant  may  be,  unless 
she  have  been  tried  and  proved  by  long  and  faithful  service  and 
friendship,  a  babe  is  too  precious  to  be  given  unreservedly  to  her 
care.  The  mother  herself,  or  an  elder  sister  or  auntie,  should  hover 
protectingly  near  the  tiny  creature,  whose  life-long  happiness  may 
depend  on  the  way  its  babyhood  is  passed.  Who  has  not  seen  in 
the  city  parks  the  beautifully-dressed  infants,  darlings  evidently  of 
homes  of  wealth  and  refinement,  left  to  bear  the  beams  of  the  sun 
and  stings  of  gnats  and  flies,  while  the  nurses  gossiped  together, 
oblivious  of  the  flight  of  time  ?  Mothers  are  often  quick  to  resent 
stories  of  the  neglect  or  cruelty  of  their  employees,  and  cannot  be 
made  to  believe  that  their  own  children  are  sufferers.  And  the 
children  are  too  young  to  speak. 

The  lover  of  little  ones  can  almost  always  see  the  subtle  dif- 

147 


B4BIES    AND    THEIR    RIGHTS. 

ference  which  exists  between  the  babies  whom  mothers  care  for, 
and  the  babies  who  are  left  to  hirelings.  The  former  have  a 
sweeter,  shyer,  gladder  look  than  the  latter.  Perhaps  the  babies 
who  are  born,  so  to  speak,  with  silver  spoons  in  their  mouths,  are 
better  off  than  those  who  came  to  the  heritage  of  a  gold  spoon. 
The  gold  spooners  have  lovely  cradles  and  vassinets.  They  wear 
Valenciennes  lace  and  embroidery,  and  fashion  dicates  the  cut  of 
their  bibs,  and  the  length  of  their  flowing  robes.  They  are  waited 
upon  by  bonnes  in  picturesque  aprons  and  caps,  and  the  doctor  is 
sent  for  whenever  they  have  the  colic.  The  little  silver-spooners,  on 
the  other  hand,  are  arrayed  in  simple  slips,  which  the  mother  made 
herself  in  dear,  delicious  hours,  the  sweetest  in  their  mystic  joy 
which  happy  womanhood  knows.  They  lie  on  the  sofa,  or  on  two 
chairs  with  a  pillow  placed  carefully  to  hold  them,  while  she  sings  at 
her  work,  spreads  the  snowy  linen  on  the  grass,  moulds  the  bread, 
and  shells  the  peas.  The  mother's  hands  wash  and  dress  them,  the 
father  rocks  them  to  sleep,  the  proud  brothers  and  sisters  carry  them 
to  walk,  or  wheel  their  little  wagons  along  the  pavement.  Fortu- 
nate babies  of  the  silver  spoon !  9 

Alas  and  alack !  for  the  babies  who  have  never  a  spoon  at  all,  not 
even  a  horn  or  a  leaden  one.  Their  poor  parents  love  them,  amid 
the  squalid  circumstances  which  hem  them  in,  but  they  can  do  little 
for  their  well-being,  and  they  die  by  hundreds  in  garrets  and  cellars 
and  close  tenenent  rooms.  When  the  rich  and  charitable  shall 
devise  some  way  to  care  for  the  babies  of  the  poor,  when  New  York 
shall  imitate  Paris  in  founding  an  institution  akin  to  La  Creche,  we 
shall  have  taken  a  long  step  forward  in  the  direction  of  social  and 
moral  elevation. 

148 


THE    CHILDREN'S     BED-TIME. 

Jane  Ellis  Hopkins. 
>HE  clock  strikes  seven  in  the  hall, 

The  curfew  of  the  children's  day, 
That  calls  each  little  pattering  foot 

From  dance  and  song  and  lively  play  ; 
Their  day  that  in  a  wider  light 
Floats  like  a  silver  day-moon  white, 
Nor  in  our  darkness  sinks  to  rest, 
But  sets  within  a  golden  west. 

Ah,  tender  hour  that  sends  a  drift 

Of  children's  kisses  though  the  house, 
And  cuckoo  notes  of  sweet  "  Good  night," 

That  thoughts  of  heaven  and  home  arouse, 
And  a  soft  stir  to  sense  and  heart, 
As  when  the  bee  and  blossom  part ; 
And  little  feet  that  patter  slower, 
Like  the  last  droppings  of  a  shower. 

And  in  the  children's  room  aloft, 

What  blossom  shapes  do  gaily  slip 
Their  daily  sheaths,  and  rosy  run 

From  clasping  hand  and  kissing  lip, 
A  naked  sweetness  to  the  eye — 
Blossom  and  babe  and  butterfly 
In  witching  one,  so  dear  a  sight  1 
An  ecstasy  of  life  and  light. 
149 


THE  CHILDREN'S  BED-TIME. 

Then  lily-drest,  in  angel  white, 

To  mother's  knee  they  trooping  como. 
The  soft  palms  fold  like  kissing  shells, 

And  they  and  we  go  singing  home — 
Their  bright  heads  bowed  and  worshiping, 
As  though  some  glory  of  the  spring, 
Some  daffodil  that  mocks  the  day, 
Should  fold  his  golden  palms  and  pray. 

The  gates  of  paradise  swing  wide 

A  moment's  space  in  soft  accord, 
And  those  dread  angels,  Life  and  Death, 

A  moment  vail  the  naming  sword, 
As  o'er  this  weary  world  forlorn 
From  Eden's  secret  heart  is  borne 
That  breath  of  Paradise  most  fair, 
Which  mothers  call  "  the  children's  prayer." 

Then  kissed,  on  beds  we  lay  them  down, 

As  fragrant  white  as  clover'd  sod, 
And  all  the  upper  floors  grow  hushed 

With  children's  sleep,  and  dews  of  God. 
And  as  our  stars  their  beams  do  hide, 
The  stars  of  twilight,  opening  wide, 
Take  up  the  heavenly  tale  at  even, 
And  light  us  on  to  God  and  heaven. 


NEVEB  wish  for  anything  for  which  you  dare  not  praj. 

150 


THE    EVENING    PKAYER 

LL  day  the  children's  busy  feet 

Had  pattered  to  and  fro  ; 
And  all  the  day  their  little  hands 
Had  been  in  mischief  so, — 

That  oft  my  patience  had  been  tried  ; 

But  tender,  loving  care 
Had  kept  them  through  the  day  from  harm, 

And  safe  from  ev'ry  snare. 

But  when  the  even-tide  had  come, 

The  children  went  up-stairs, 
And  knelt  beside  their  little  beds, 

To  say  their  wonted  prayers. 

"With  folded  hands  and  rev'rent  mien, 

"  Our  Father,"  first  they  say, 
Then,  "  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep," 

"With  childlike  faith  they  pray. 

With  cheeks  upon  the  pillow  pressed, 

They  give  a  kiss,  and  say, — 
"  Good-night ;  we  love  you,  dear  mamma, 

You've  been  so  kind  to-day." 

"  Dood-night ;  I  love  oo,  too,  mamma," 

And  baby's  eyelids  close ; 
And  tired  feet  and  restless  hands 

Enjoy  the  sweet  repose. 

151 


HOME     AND    ITS    QUEEN. 

The  trouble  and  the  weariness 

To  me  indeed  seemed  light, 
Since  love  had  thus  my  efforts  crowned 

To  guide  their  steps  aright. 

And  as  I  picked  the  playthings  up, 

And  put  the  books  away, 
My  heart  gave  grateful  thanks  to  God, 

For  His  kind  care  all  day. — Anonymous 


HOME    ASTD    ITS    QUEEN". 

tUi  RE  is  probably  not  an  unperverted  man  or  woman 
•who  does  not  feel  that  the  sweetest  consolations  and  best 
rewards  of  life  are  found  in  the  loves  and  delights  of  home. 
There  are  very  few  who  do  not  feel  themselves  indebted  to  the 
influences  that  clustered  around  their  cradles  for  whatever  good 
there  may  be  in  their  characters  and  condition.  Home,  based  upon 
Christian  marriage,  is  so  evident  an  institution  of  God,  that  a  man 
must  become  profane  before  he  can  deny  it.  Wherever  it  is  pure 
and  true  to  the  Christian  idea,  there  lives  an  institution  conservative 
of  all  the  nobler  instincts  of  society. 

Of  this  realm  woman  is  the  queen.  It  takes  the  cue  and  hue 
from  her.  If  she  is  in  the  best  sense  womanly — if  she  is  true  and 
tender,  loving  and  heroic,  patient  and  self -devoted — she  consciously 
and  unconsciously  organizes  and  puts  in  operation  a  set  of  influences 
that  do  more  to  mould  the  destiny  of  the  nation  than  any  man, 
uncrowned  by  power  of  eloquence,  can  possibly  effect.  The  men  of 
the  nation  are  what  mothers  make  them,  as  a  rule ;  and  the  voice 

152 


GIRLS'     INFLUENCE. 

that  those  men  speak  in  the  expression  of  power,  is  the  voice  of  the 
woman  who  bore  and  bred  them.  There  can  be  no  substitute  for 
this.  There  is  no  other  possible  way  in  which  the  women  of  the 
nation  can  organize  their  influence  and  power  that  will  tell  so  bene- 
ficially upon  society  and  the  state. — Scribner's  Monthly. 


GIKLS'    INFLUENCE. 

• 

JKLS,  and  especially  those  who  are  members  of  large  families, 
have  much  influence  at  home,  where  brothers  delight  in  their 
sisters,  and  where  parents  look  fondly  down  on  their  dear 
daughters,  and  pray  that  their  example  may  influence  the  boys  for 
good.  Girls  have  much  in  their  power  with  regard  to  those  boys ; 
they  have  it  in  their  power  to  make  them  gentler,  purer,  truer,  to 
give  them  higher  opinions  of  women  ;  to  soften  their  manners  and 
ways  ;  to  tone  down  rough  places,  and  shape  sharp,  angular  corners. 

All  this,  to  be  done  well,  must  be  done  by  imperceptibly  influ- 
encing them,  and  giving  them  an  example  of  the  gentleness,  the 
purity,  the  politeness  and  tenderness  we  wish  them  to  emluate. 
"When  we  see  boys  careless  to  their  elders,  rude  in  manner  and  coarse 
in  speech,  and  we  know  that  they  have  sisters,  we  often,  and  I  think 
with  reason,  conclude  that  there  must  be  something  wrong,  and  that 
the  sisters  are  not  trying  to  make  them  better  boys,  but  leaving 
things  alone,  letting  them  go  their  own  course.  Perhaps  their 
excuse  would  be  that  they  were  too  much  occupied  themselves  and 
that  their  own  studies  and  pursuits  prevent  them  from  being  able  to 
pay  much  attention  to  their  brothers ;  and  "  boys  will  be  boys,"  you 
know.  By  all  means  let  boys  be  boys.  I,  for  one,  regard  boys  far 

153 


GIELS'     INFLUENCE. 

too  highly  to  wish  them  to  be  otherwise;  but  the  roughness,  and 
coarseness,  and  rudeness,  of  which  I  speak,  are  not  necessary  ingre- 
dients of  boyhood ;  and  it  is  you,  their  sisters,  who  must  prove  that 
they  are  not.  Interest  yourselves  in  their  pursuits,  show  them,  by 
every  moans  in  your  power,  that  you  do  not  consider  them  and  their 
doings  beneath  your  notice;  spare  an  hour  from  your  practicing, 
from  your  drawing,  from  your  languages,  for  their  boating  or  sports, 
and  don't  turn  contemptuously  away  from  the  books  and  amuse- 
ments in  which  they  delight,  as  if,  though  good  enough  for  them, 
they  are  immeasurably  below  you.  Try  this  behavior,  girls,  for  a 
short  time;  it  will  not  harm  you,  and  will  benefit  them  greatly. 
You  will  soon  find  how  a  gentle  word  will  turn  off  a  sharp  answer ; 
how  a  grieved  look  will  effectually  reprove  an  unfitting  expression  ; 
%  how  gratefully  a  small  kindness  will  be  received;  and  how  un- 
bounded will  be  the  power  for  good  you  will  obtain  by  a  continu- 
ance of  this  conduct. 

Equally  great  will  a  girl's  influence  be  on  her  younger  sisters, 
in  whose  eyes  she  is  the  perfection  of  grace  and  goodness,  in  whose 
thoughts  she  is  ever  present.  Beautiful,  exceedingly  beautiful,  is 
the  close  friendship  between  an  elder  and  a  younger  sister ;  but  let 
the  elder  beware  of  the  influence  she  exerts.  If  she  herself  be  care- 
less, frivolous,  undutiful,  and  irreligious,  the  child  will  inevitably 
be  so  too,  unless  the  fatal  influence  be  counteracted  by  some  other 
holier  one.  If  she  gives  sharp  answers,  or  shows  but  little  regard 
for  truth,  let  her  not  be  astonished  if  the  little  one  be  ill-tempered 
and  untruthful ;  and  sorrowful  will  be  the  conviction  that  she  has 
had  not  a  little  to  do  with  making  her  so. 

In  school,  too,  a  girl  of  determined,  resolute  character  will  soon 
take  the  lead  and  acquire  a  certain  influence.  School-girls  are 
gregarious,  and  follow  naturally  anyone  who  is  stronger-minded 
and  more  decided.  When  the  influence  is  exercised  to  elevate  the  . 

154 


TO    OUR    GIRLS. 

young  minds,  and  give  them  higher  and  noble  aspirations,  it  is  a 
salutary  and  beneficial  effect  of  school  life;  but  when  it  is  other- 
wise, it  is  a  very  sad  one.  Two  or  three  older  girls  in  a  school, 
having  a  noble  object  in  view,  steadily  endeavoring  to  do  right, 
acting  quietly  and  without  ostentation,  but  seeking  humbly  to  follow 
in  the  footsteps  Christ  has  marked  out  for  us,  may  do  an  immense 
amount  of  good.  "  A  little  leaven  leaveneth  the  whole  lump." 

We  know  not  half  the  power  for  good  or  ill, 
Our  daily  lives  possess  o'er  one  another ; 
A  careless  word  may  help  a  soul  to  kill, 
Or  by  one  look  we  may  redeem  our  brother. 

"Tis  not  the  great  things  that  we  do  or  say, 

But  idle  words  forget  as  soon  as  spoken ; 

And  little,  thoughtless  deeds  of  every  day 

Are  stumbling  blocks  on  which  the  weak  are  broken. 

— Anonymous. 


TO    OUR    GIKLS. 

Mary  F.  Lathrop. 

pastor  of  a  church  in  one  of  our  large  cities  said  to  me 
not  long  ago:  "I  have  officiated  at  forty  weddings  since 
I  came  here,  and  in  every  case,  save  one,  I  felt  that  the 
bride  was  running  an  awful  risk."  Young  men  of  bad  habits  and 
fast  tendencies  never  marry  girls  of  their  own  sort,  but  demand  a 
wife  above  suspicion.  So  pure,  sweet  women,  kept  from  the  touch 
of  evil  through  the  years  of  their  girlhood,  give  themselves,  with  all 
their  costly  dower  of  womanhood,  into  the  keeping  of  men  who,  in 
base  associations,  have  learned  to  undervalue  all  that  belongs  to 
them,  and  then  find  no  time  for  repentance  in  the  sad  after  years. 
There  is  but  one  way  out  of  this  that  I  can  see,  and  that  is  for  yor 

155 


A    PLEA    FOE     THE    BOY. 

— the  young  women  of  the  country — to  require  in  association  and 
marriage,  purity  for  purity,  sobriety  for  sobriety,  and  honor  for 
honor.  There  is  no  reason  why  the  young  men  of  this  Christian 
land  should  not  be  just  as  virtuous  as  its  young  women,  and  if  the 
loss  of  your  society  and  love  be  the  price  they  are  forced  to  pay  for 
vice,  they  will  not  pay  it.  I  admit  with  sadness  that  not  all  of  our 
young  women  are  capable  of  this  high  standard  for  themselves  or 
others ;  too  often  from  the  hand  of  reckless  beauty  has  the  tempta- 
tion to  drink  come  to  men;  but  I  believe  there  are  enough  of 
earnest,  thoughtful  girls  in  the  society  of  our  country  to  work  won- 
ders in  the  temperance  reform,  if  fully  aroused.  Dear  girls,  will 
you  help  us  in  the  name  of  Christ  ?  "Will  you,  first  of  all,  be  so  true 
to  yourselves  and  God,  so  pure  in  your  inner  and  outer  life,  that  you 
shall  have  a  right  to  ask  that  the  young  men  with  whom  you  asso- 
ciate, and  especially  those  you  marry,  shall  be  the  same  ?  The  awful 
gulf  of  dishonor  is  close  beside  your  feet,  and  in  it  fathers,  brothers, 
lovers,  and  sons  are  going  down.  "Will  you  not  help  us  in  our  great 
work? 


A   PLEA    FOE   THE    BOY. 

>HE  boy  is  an  offense  in  himself.  He  must  have  something  to 
do,  and  as  his  hands  are  idle  the  proverbial  provider  of  occu- 
pation for  idle  hands  is  always  ready  with  instructions  for 
him.  A  boy  makes  noise  in  utter  defiance  of  the  laws  of  acoustics. 
Shoe  him  in  velvet,  and  carpet  your  house  as  you  will,  your  boy 
shall  make  such  a  hubbub  with  his  heels  as  no  watchman's  rattle 
ever  gave  forth.  Doors  in  his  hands  always  shut  with  a  violence 
which  jars  the  whole  house,  and  he  is  certain  to  acquire  each  day  the 
art  of  screaming  or  whistling  in  some  wholly  new  and  excruciating 

156 


JL    PLEA    FOB    THE     BOY. 

way.  Loving  his  mother  so  violently  that  his  caresses  derange  her 
attire  and  seriously  endanger  her  bones,  ready  to  die  in  her  defense 
if  need  be,  he  nevertheless  torments  ht,y  from  morning  to  night,  and 
allows  her  no  possible  peace  until  slumber  closes  his  throat  and  eye- 
lids, and  deprives  his  hands  and  feet  of  their  demoniac  canning. 

In  public  your  boy  is  equally  a  nuisance.  Collectively  or  indi- 
vidually he  offends  the  public  in  the  streets.  "Whatever  he  does  is 
sure  to  be  wrong.  He  monopolizes  space  and  takes  to  himself  all 
the  air  there  is  for  acoustical  purposes.  Your  personal  peculiarities 
interest  him,  and  with  all  the  frankness  of  his  soul  he  comments 
upon  your  appearance,  addressing  his  remarks  to  his  fellow  on  the 
next  block. 

Nevertheless  the  boy  has  his  uses.  He  is  the  material  out  of 
which  men  are  to  be  made  for  the  next  generation.  He  is  not  a 
bad  fellow, — that  is  to  say,  he  is  not  intentionally  or  consciously  bad. 
There  are  springs  in  his  limbs  which  keep  him  in  perpetual  motion, 
and  the  devil  of  uproar  of  which  he  is  possessed  utters  the  ear- 
piercing  sounds  which  annoy  his  elders,  but  the  utterances  of  which 
he  can  no  more  restrain  than  he  can  keep  his  boots  or  trousers  from 
wearing  out.  In  a  ten-acre  lot,  well  away  from  the  house,  the  boy 
is  a  picturesque  and  agreeable  person;  it  is  only  when  one  must 
come  into  closer  contact  with  him  that  his  presence  causes  suffering 
and  suggests  a  statue  to  King  Herod.  It  is  in  cities  that  the  boy 
makes  himself  felt  most  disagreeably,  and  we  fancy  that  the  fault  is 
not  altogether  his.  As  the  steam  which  bursts  boilers  would  be  a 
perfectly  harmless  vapor  but  for  the  sharp  restraint  that  is  put  upon 
it,  so  the  effervescent  boy  becomes  dangerous  to  social  order  only 
when  he  is  confined,  when  an  effort  is  made  to  compress  him  into 
smaller  space  than  the  law  of  his  expansive  being  absolutely  requires. 
We  send  him  upon  the  war-path  by  encroaching  upon  his  hunting- 
grounds  ;  we  drive  him  into  hostility  by  treating  him  as  a  public 


A    PLEA    FOR    THE     BOY. 

enemy.  In  most  of  our  dealings  with  him  in  cities,  our  effort  is  to 
suppress  him,  and  it  is  an  unwise  system.  If  his  ball-playing  in  the 
streets  becomes  an  annoyance,  we  simply  forbid  ball-playing  in  the 
streets,  and  it  is  an  inevitable  consequence  that,  deprived  of  his  ball, 
he  will  throw  stones  at  street  lamps  or  at  policemen.  What  else  is 
he  to  do  ? 

In  Brooklyn,  for  example,  whose  streets  are  long  and  wide,  there 
was  thought  to  be  room  enough  for  boys,  and  the  inspiring  rumble 
of  the  velocipede  w*»s  heard  there  until  somebody  objected,  when 
straightway  the  policemen  were  directed  to  arrest  all  machines  of 
that  character,  whether  with  two,  three,  or  four  wheels,  found  upon 
sidewalks.  Now  this  order  we  held  was  not  only  cruel,  but  it  was 
unwise  as  well.  Without  a  doubt  the  velocipedes  were  a  source 
of  serious  annoyance  in  crowded  thoroughfares,  but  they  are  not 
so  in  streets  in  which  pedestrians  are  few,  as  they  are  in  fully 
one-half  of  Brooklyn's  thoroughfares.  Velocipede  riding  might 
have  been  forbidden  in  the  main  thoroughfares,  and  permitted  in 
less  frequented  ones,  and  the  boy  would  have  been  content ;  to  for- 
bid it  where  it  offends  nobody — merely  for  the  sake  of  preventing  it 
where  it  does  offend — is  illogical  and  unjust,  and,  worse  still,  it  is 
unwise.  The  boy  cannot  be  banished  or  confined,  and,  lacking  his 
velocipede  he  will  resort  to  something  more  annoying  still.  What 
it  will  be  we  do  not  pretend  to  guess,  but  for  its  capacity  to  annoy 
we  may  safely  trust  to  the  boy's  ingenuity. 

Speaking  in  all  seriousness,  it  is  not  well  to  suppress  the  sports 
of  boys  from  which  they  derive  strength  and  health  and  manly  vigor 
of  body.  We  may  and  must  regulate  these  things ;  but  mere  sup- 
pression is  a  crude  and  tyrannical  method  of  dealing  with  them.  In 
Boston,  a  city  of  notions,  whose  notions  are  sometimes  surprisingly 
wise  and  good,  care  is  taken  to  give  the  boys  room.  A  sport  which 
becomes  annoying  is  not  suppressed,  but  is  given  ample  room  in 

158 


BOYHOOD. 

places  where  it  will  annoy  least ;  and  when,  for  example,  certain 
streets  are  publicly  set  apart  for  coasting,  as  they  are  in  Boston 
every  winter,  the  police  have  no  difficulty  in  preventing  coasting 
elsewhere.  The  boy  who  may  ride  his  sled  or  his  velocipede  to  his 
heart's  content  in  one  street  will  not  care  to  intrude  upon  another. 
We  need  to  adopt  a  like  system  in  our  larger  cities.  The  boys  must 
have  room  in  which  to  exercise  and  grow.  If  we  do  not  give  it  to 
them  in  one  place  they  will  take  it  in  another,  to  our  sore  inconve- 
nience.— New  York  Evening  Post. 


BOYHOOD. 

R&s.  W.  H.  H.  Murray. 

fAKENTS  should  remember  that  the  children  of  to-day,  and 
j-jf,  especially  those  born  in  cities,  are  peculiarly  exposed  to  temp- 
^®  tation.  The  opportunities  which  came  to  many  of  us  from 
the  old  home  life  in  the  country,  with  its  crisp  atmosphere  of 
Puritan  government,  its  habits  of  honesty  and  honorable  industry, 
its  conservative  customs,  and  its  simple  reverent  faith  in  God,  all 
centered  around  one  spot,  all  hallowing  one  locality,  will  not  come  to 
our  children,  because  the  causes  and  incentives  which  operated  to 
establish  them  in  us,  do  not  operate  to  establish  them  in  the  rising 
generation.  A  boyhood  passed  in  the  city  is  a  far  different  thing 
from  one  passed  in  the  country.  The  sights  and  sounds  and  sur- 
roundings of  metropolitan  life  force  the  growth  of  the  young,  and  at 
a  time,  too,  when  the  physical  and  the  sensuous  preponderate  in  the 
nature.  These  beget  a  looseness  of  thought  and  freedom  of  conduct 
before  the  judgment  is  sufficiently  matured  by  experience  to  check 
them.  These  educate  one  into  necessities  faster  than  individual 
effort  can  earn  the  means  of  supplying  them  ;  and  foster  that  worst 

159 


MY     BOY. 

of  all  habits  of  the  young  man — eating,  and  wearing,  and  spending, 
what  he  has  not  earned.  We  do  not  say,  parents,  that  these  evil 
tendencies  cannot  be  lessened  or  wholly  counterbalanced,  but  we  do 
say  that  they  call  for  the  utmost  effort  on  your  part,  and  make 
anxiety  reasonable.  They  may  achieve  what  the  world  calls  success, 
although  even  this  will  be  hazarded.  But  they  will  never  lead  tha\ 
life  of  piety  and  holiness  which  can  alone  commend  them  in  theii 
character  and  conduct  to  the  favor  of  God.  They  will  live  and 
labor  as  those  whose  lives  end  at  the  grave.  The  line  of  pure 
selfishness  will  circumscribe  their  lives,  and  shame  and  confusion  of 
face  will  cover  them  when  they  appear  to  render  their  account 
before  God. 


MY    BOY. 

Frank  T.  Mwziak 

LITTLE  face,  little,  loved,  tender  face, 
Set,  like  a  saint's,  in  curls  for  aureole — 
Little,  loved  face,  in  which  the  clear  child  soul 
Is  mirror'd  with  a  changeful,  perfect  grace  ; 
Where  sudden  ripples  of  light  laughter  chase 

The  dimples  round  the  dainty  mouth  ;  where  roll 
Cloud  shadows  of  great  questionings,  and  dole 
For  human  ills  half  realized,  where  race, 
In  restless  sequence,  gloom,  gleam,  shade,  and  shine — 

A  thousand  feelings,  sorrow,  love,  and  joy, 
A  thousand  thoughts,  of  folly  half  divine, 
And  bold  imaginings,  and  fancies  coy, 
And  reasonings  dream-like  ! — 

O  my  boy,  my  boy, 

How  I  do  love  that  little  face  of  thine  ! 

160 


CHILDREN  OF   THE  RICH  AND  POOR  CONTRASTED. 

James  Russell  Lowell. 
>HE  rich  man's  son  inherits  lands, 
And  piles  of  brick,  and  stone  and  gold, 

And  he  inherits  soft  white  hands, 
And  tender  flesh  that  fears  the  cold, 
Nor  dares  to  wear  a  garment  old : 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  ine, 
One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

The  rich  man's  son  inherits  cares, — 
The  bank  may  break,  the  factory  burn, 

A  breath  may  burst  his  bubble  shares ; 
And  soft  white  hands  could  hardly  earn 
A  living  that  would  serve  his  turn : 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
One  scarce  would  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit  ? 
Stout  muscles  and  a  sinewy  heart, 

A  hardy  frame,  a  hardier  spirit ; 
Bang  of  two  hands  he  does  his  part 
In  every  useful  toil  and  art : 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

"What  doth  the  poor  man's  son  inherit  I 
A  patience  learned  of  being  poor, 
161 


BE    KIND,     BOYS. 

Courage,  if  Borrow  comes,  to  bear  it, 
A  fellow  feeling  that  is  sure 
To  make  the  outcast  bless  his  door  : 
A  heritage,  it  seems  to  me, 
A  king  might  wish  to  hold  in  fee. 

Both,  heirs  to  some  six  feet  of  sod, 
Are  equal  in  the  earth  at  last, 

Both,  children  of  the  same  dear  God. 
Prove  title  to  your  heirship  vast 
By  records  of  a  well-fill'd  past : 
A  heritage  it  seems  to  me, 
"Well  worth  a  life  to  hold  in  fee. 


BE    KIND,    BOYS. 

Horace  Mann. 

'OU  are  made  to  be  kind,  boys,  generous,  magnanimous.  If 
there  is  a  boy  in  school  who  has  a  club  foot,  don't  let  him 
know  you  ever  saw  it.  If  there  is  a  poor  boy  with  ragged 
clothes,  don't  talk  about  rags  in  his  hearing.  If  there  is  a  lame  boy, 
assign  him  some  part  of  the  game  which  does  not  require  running. 
If  there  is  a  hungry  one,  give  him  part  of  your  dinner.  If  there  is 
a  dull  one,  help  him  to  get  his  lesson.  If  there  is  a  bright  one,  be 
not  envious  of  him ;  for  if  one  boy  is  proud  of  his  talents,  and 
another  is  envious  of  them,  there  are  two  great  wrongs,  and  no 
more  talent  than  before.  If  a  larger  or  stronger  boy  has  injured 
you,  and  is  sorry  for  it,  forgive  him.  All  the  school  will  show  by 
their  countenances  how  much  better  it  is  than  to  have  a  great  fist. 

162 


GOOD    MANNEKS. 

has  been  said,  that  a  "nw'd  manners  form  his  fortune." 
Whether  this  be  really  so  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  his  manners 
form  his  reputation — stamp  upon  him,  as  it  were,  his  current 
worth  in  the  circles  where  he  moves.  If  his  manners  are  the  pro- 
ducts of  a  kind  heart,  they  will  please,  though  they  be  destitute  of 
graceful  polish.  There  is  scarcely  anything  of  more  importance  to 
a  child  of  either  sex,  than  good  breeding.  If  parents  and  teachers 
perform  their  duties  to  the  young  faithfully,  there  will  be  compara- 
tively few  destitute  of  good  manners. 

Visit  a  family  where  the  parents  are  civil  and  courteous  toward 
all  within  their  household,  whether  as  dwellers  or  as  guests,  and 
your  children  will  learn  good  manners,  just  as  they  learn  to  talk, 
from  imitation.  But  reverse  the  order  of  things  concerning  parents, 
and  the  children  learn  ill  manners,  just  as  in  the  former  case  they 
learn  good  manners,  by  imitation. 

Train  children  to  behave  at  home  as  you  would  have  them  act 
abroad.  It  is  almost  certain,  that  they,  while  children,  conduct 
themselves  abroad  as  they  would  have  been  in  the  habit  of  doing 
under  like  circumstances  when  at  home.  "Be  courteous,"  is  an 
apostolical  injunction,  which  all  should  ever  remember  and  obey. 

Finally,  "  be  ye  all  of  one  mind,  having  compassion  one  of 
another,  love  as  brethren,  be  pitiful,  be  courteous."  1  Peter,  iii.  8. 
— Anonymous. 

163 


KIND    MANNERS    AT    HOME. 

>HERE  are  many  families,  tne  members  of  which  are,  without 
doubt,  dear  to  each  other.  If  sickness  or  sudden  trouble 
falls  on  one,  all  are  afflicted,  and  make  haste  to  sympathize, 
help  and  comfort.  But  in  their  daily  life  and  ordinary  intercourse 
there  is  not  only  no  expression  of  affection,  none  of  the  pleasant  and 
fond  behavior  that  has,  perhaps,  little  dignity,  but  which  more  than 
makes  up  for  that  hi  its  sweetness ;  but  there  is  an  absolute  hardness 
of  language  and  actions  which  is  shocking  to  every  sensitive  and 
tender  feeling.  Between  father  and  mother,  and  brother  and  sister, 
pass  rough  and  hasty  words ;  yes,  and  angry  words,  far  more  fre- 
quently than  words  of  endearment.  To  see  and  hear  them,  one 
would  think  that  they  hated,  instead  of  loved  each  other.  It  does 
not  seem  to  have  entered  into  their  heads  that  it  is  their  duty,  as  it 
should  be  their  best  pleasure,  to  do  and  say  all  that  they  possibly  can 
for  each  other's  good  and  happiness.  "  Each  one  for  himself,  and 
bad  luck  take  the  hindermost."  The  father  orders  and  growls,  the 
mother  frets,  complains,  and  scolds,  the  children  snap,  snarl,  and 
whine,  and  so  goes  the  day.  Alas !  for  it,  if  this  is  a  type  of 
heaven ! — as  "  the  family  "  is  said  to  be — at  least,  it  is  said  to  be  the 
nearest  thing  to  heaven  of  anything  on  earth.  But  the  spirit  of 
selfishness,  of  violence,  render  it  more  like  the  other  place — yes,  and 
this  too  often,  even  when  all  the  members  of  the  household  are 
members  of  the  Church.  Where  you  see — when  you  know  it — one 
family  where  love  and  gentleness  reign,  you  see  ten  where  they  only 
make  visits,  and  this  among  Christian  families  as  well  as  others. 

164 


HOME. 

to  "  sit  solitary  "  in  life, 
,  give  me  a  lodge  in  any 
face  of  human  being  ever 
ts,  friends,  or  kindred,  in 
ch  causes  pain,  or  where  I 
ve.     No  wealth,  no  advan- 
with  people  whose  inter- 
they  were  to  me,  the  less 
not  do  all  they  could  to 
ngers  one  might  endure, 
for  a  time ;  for  what  they 
's  feelings ;  but  how  mem- 
same  parents,  can  remain 
r  they  hear  quarreling,  if 
fly  on  all  sides  of  them, 
their  house  are  rendered 
>ry. 

will  last 
face  is  o'er ; 

are  past, 
ter  shore. " 

— Anonymous. 


ome  that  is  well  ordered, 
heavenly  by  the  agency 
id.  No  school  can  teach 


,     1   - 
y>*      r -y 


EDO) 

>HEKE  are  man, 
doubt,  dear  to 
falls  on  one, 
help  and  comfort.     But" 
there  is  not  only  no  e 
fond  behavior  that  h 
makes  up  for  that  in  i 
of  language  and  acti 
tender  feeling.     Bet 
pass  rough  and  hasty 
quently  than  words 
would  think  that  the 
not  seem  to  have  enter 
should  be  their  best 
for  each  other's  good 
bad  luck  take  the  hin 
mother  frets,  compl 
whine,  and  so  goes 
heaven ! — as  "  the  f  ami 
nearest  thing  to  hea 
selfishness,  of  violence 
this  too  often,  even 
members  of  the  Ch 
family  where  love  and 
make  visits,  and  this 


KIND    MANNERS    AT    HOME. 

Now,  it  is  a  sad  and  melancholy  thing  to  "  sit  solitary  "  in  life, 
but  give  me  a  cave  in  the  bowels  of  earth,  give  me  a  lodge  in  any 
waste,  howling  wilderness,  where  foot  nor  face  of  human  being  ever 
came,  rather  than  an  abode  with  parents,  friends,  or  kindred,  in 
which  I  must  hear  or  utter  language  which  causes  pain,  or  where  I 
must  see  conduct  which  is  not  born  of  love.  No  wealth,  no  advan- 
tage of  any  kind,  would  induce  me  to  live  with  people  whose  inter- 
course was  of  such  a  nature.  The  dearer  they  were  to  me,  the  less 
would  I  remain  among  them,  if  they  did  not  do  all  they  could  to 
make  each  other  happy.  With  mere  strangers  one  might  endure, 
even  under  such  circumstances,  to  remain  for  a  time ;  for  what  they 
say  or  do  has  but  limited  effect  upon  one's  feelings ;  but  how  mem- 
bers of  the  same  family,  children  of  the  same  parents,  can  remain 
together,  year  after  year,  when  every  day  they  hear  quarreling,  if 
they  do  not  join  in  it,  and  when  hard  words  fly  on  all  sides  of  them, 
thick  as  hail,  and  the  very  visitors  in  their  house  are  rendered 
uncomfortable  by  them,  is  indeed  a  mystery. 

"  Count  life  by  virtues;  these  will  last 

When  life's  lame,  foiled,  race  is  o'er ; 
And  these,  when  earthly  joys  are  past, 
Shall  cheer  us  on  a  brighter  shore." 

— Anonymous. 


\  OME  is  next  to  heaven.     And  the  home  that  is  well  ordered, 
comely,  pure,  and  bright  is  thus  heavenly  by  the  agency 
of  woman's  heart  and  woman's  hand.     No  school  can  teach 
the  science  of  housekeeping. — Anonymous. 

165 


HOME    AMUSEMENTS. 

W.  H.  H.  Murray. 

CLOSE  observer  of  American  life  said  to  us  the  other  day  that 
a  great  change  had  come  in  the  last  ten  years  to  the  home  life 
of  the  country.  And  in  answer  to  our  interrogation,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  point  out  the  character  of  this  change.  One  point  which 
he  made  was  that  a  great  many  games  of  skill  and  chance  were 
being  played  in  New  England  homes,  to-day,  which  were  not  known, 
or  if  known,  were  forbidden  by  parents  ten  years  ago.  Our  OATH 
observation  coincides  with  his  on  this  point.  We  know  that  chese 
within  the  last  ten  years  has  captured  for  itself  a  high  place  in 
popular  regard.  It  speaks  well  for  a  people  when  such  an  intellec- 
tual game  can  become  popular.  For  it  takes  brains  to  play  chess 
even  moderately  well,  and  none  but  clever  and  thoughtful  people 
would  ever  like  it.  "We  noticed  also  that  cards  are  no  longer  abjured 
as  they  once  were  in  households.  Whist  and  euchre  are  domiciled, 
to-day,  in  homes  where,  a  decade  ago,  their  names  could  not  have 
been  spoken  safely  save  in  a  whisper.  Checkers  are  not  perhaps 
more  universal,  but  they  are  more  fashionable.  They  have  fought 
their  way  into  high  life ;  and  whereas  they  once  found  their  friends 
in  the  village  tavern  and  in  the  farmer's  kitchen,  they  are  now 
admitted  into  the  parlors  of  the  wealthy  and  refined.  The  games 
played  with  historical  cards  are  also  numerous  and  many  of  them 
pleasantly  exciting.  And  you  find  them  in  almost  every  household. 
Now  all  this  is  very  pleasant  and  hopeful.  It  reveals  to  the  thinker 
the  fact  that  home  life  is  more  vivacious  and  happy  than  it  used  to 
be ;  that  the  long  dull  evenings  are  being  enlivened  with  sprightly 

166 


HOME    AMUSEMENTS. 

and  stimulating  amusements,  and  that  the  home  circle  is  charged 
with  attractions  which  it  once  sadly  lacked.  These  games  are  help- 
ing to  make  the  homes  of  the  country  happier,  helping  to  make  the 
children  more  contented  with  their  homes,  and  in  doing  this  they 
are  helping  to  make  the  country  more  intelligent  and  more  virtuous. 
By  wise  parents  these  games  are  looked  upon  as  God-sends.  They 
help  solve  the  problem  of  home  amusements  and  recreation ;  and 
this,  as  all  parents  know,  is  one  of  the  gravest  problems  they  have  to 
solve.  Parents,  make  your  homes  as  happy  as  you  possibly  can  for 
your  children  and  their  mates.  Fill  them  with  fun  and  frolic  and 
the  cheerfulness  of  spirited  social  life.  Play  these  games  with  your 
children  yourselves,  and  thus  share  their  joys  with  them ;  and  feed 
your  happiness  on  the  spectacle  of  theirs.  A  great  many  homes  are 
like  the  frame  of  a  harp  that  stands  without  strings.  In  form  and 
outline  they  suggest  music ;  but  no  melody  rises  from  the  empty 
spaces ;  and  thus  it  happens  that  home  is  unattractive,  dreary  and 
dull.  Let  us  hope  that  this  introduction  of  pleasant  games — which 
will  try  both  the  wit  and  patience  of  the  children,  and  of  the  older 
ones  for  that  matter, — may  become  the  fashion  of  the  times,  until 
every  home  in  the  land  shall  be  perfectly  furnished  with  these  acces- 
sories of  profit  and  pleasure.  For  the  children's  sake,  let  the  refor- 
mation go  on  until  every  child  shall  have,  in  his  father's  house,  be  it 
humble  or  costly,  such  appliances  and  helps  for  his  entertainment 
that  he  shall  find  his  joy  under  his  father's  roof  and  in  his  father's 
presence. 

"  Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home, 

Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there  is  no  place  like  home." 

167 


A    CHEERFUL    HOME. 

SINGLE  bitter  word  may  disquiet  an  entire  family  for  a 
whole  day.  One  surly  glance  casts  a  gloom  over  the  house- 
hold, while  a  smile,  like  a  gleam  of  sunshine,  may  light  up 
the  darkest  and  weariest  hours.  Like  unexpected  flowers,  which 
spring  up  along  our  path,  full  of  freshness,  fragrance  and  beauty,  do 
kind  words  and  gentle  acts  and  sweet  dispositions,  make  glad  the 
home  where  peace  and  blessing  dwell  No  matter  how  humble  the 
abode,  if  it  be  thus  garnished  with  grace  and  sweetened  with  kind- 
ness and  smiles,  the  heart  will  turn  lovingly  toward  it  from  all  the 
tumult  of  the  world,  will  be  the  dearest  spot  beneath  the  circuit  of 
the  sun. 

And  the  influences  of  home  perpetuate  themselves.  The  gentle 
grace  of  the  mother  lives  in  the  daughter  long  after  her  head  is 
pillowed  in  the  dust  of  death;  and  the  fatherly  kindness  finds  its 
echo  in  the  nobility  and  courtesy  of  sons,  who  come  to  wear  his 
mantle  and  to  fill  his  place  ;  while  on  the  other  hand,  from  an  un- 
happy, misgoverned  and  disordered  home,  go  forth  persons  who  shall 
make  other  homes  miserable,  and  perpetuate  the  sourness  and  sad- 
ness, the  contentions  and  strifes  and  railings  which  have  made  their 
own  early  lives  so  wretched  and  distorted. 

Toward  the  cheerful  home,  the  children  gather  "  as  clouds  and 
as  doves  to  their  windows,"  while  from  the  home  which  is  the  abode 
of  discontent  and  strife  and  trouble,  they  fly  forth  as  vultures  to 
rend  their  prey. 

The  class  of  men  who  disturb  and  distress  the  world,  are  not 

168 


THE  FARMER'S  HOME. 

those  born  and  nurtured  amid  the  hallowed  influences  of  Christian 
homes ;  but  rather  those  whose  early  life  has  been  a  scene  of  trouble 
and  vexation, — who  have  started  wrong  in  the  pilgrimage,  and 
whose  course  is  one  of  disaster  to  themselves,  and  trouble  to  those 
around  them. — Friend? 8  Intelligencer. 


THE    FARMER'S    HOME. 

William  H.  Yeoman*. 

2BSTER  defines  home  as  a  "  dwelling-place,"  but  it  admits 
of  a  broader  meaning.  There  are  brilliant  and  elegant 
homes.  Some  are  wise,  thrifty  and  careful,  and  others  are 
warm  and  genial,  by  whose  glowing  hearths  any  one,  at  any  time, 
may  find  enough  and  to  spare.  There  are  bright  homes  and  gloomy 
homes.  There  are  homes  that  hurry  and  bustle  through  years  of 
incessant  labor,  until  one  and  another  of  the  inmates  fall,  like  the 
falling  leaves,  and  the  homes  turn  to  dust.  We  do  not  say  the 
dairymaid's  home  compares  with  this  last  view.  Science  has  done 
much  to  remove  the  drudgery  in  our  homes,  introducing  ease  and 
comfort.  An  ideal  home  must  first  have  a  government,  but  love 
must  be  the  dictator.  All  the  members  should  unite  to  make  home 
happy.  "We  should  have  light  in  our  homes,  heaven's  own  pure, 
transparent  light.  It  matters  not  whether  home  is  clothed  in  blue 
and  purple,  if  it  is  only  brimful  of  love,  smiles,  and  gladness. 

Our  boards  should  be  spread  with  everything  good  and  enjoya- 
ble. "We  should  have  birds,  flowers,  pets,  everything  suggestive  of 
sociability.  Flowers  are  as  indispensable  to  the  perfections  of  a 
home  as  to  the  perfections  of  a  plant.  Do  not  give  them  all  the 
sunniest  windows  and  pleasantest  corners,  crowding  out  the  children. 

169 


HOME    MEMORIES. 

If  you  cannot  have  a  large  conservatory,  have  a  small  one.  Give 
yonr  children  pets,  so  that  by  the  care  and  attention  bestowed  upon 
them  they  may  learn  the  habits  of  animals. 

Of  the  ornamentation  about  a  house,  although  a  broad  lake  lends 
a  charm  to  the  scenery,  it  cannot  compare  with  the  babbling  brook. 
As  the  little  streamlet  goes  tumbling  over  the  rocks  and  along  the 
shallow,  pebbly  bed,  it  may  be  a  marvelous  teacher  to  the  children, 
giving  them  lessons  of  enterprise  and  perseverance. 

In  our  homes  we  must  have  industry  and  sympathy.  In  choos- 
ing amusements  for  the  children,  the  latter  element  must  be  brought 
in.  To  fully  understand  the  little  ones,  you  must  sympathize  with 
them.  When  a  child  asks  questions  don't  meet  it  with,  "  Oh,  don't 
bother  me."  Tell  it  all  it  wants  to  know.  Never  let  your  angry 
passions  rise,  no  matter  how  much  you  may  be  tried.  For  full  and 
intelligent  happiness  in  the  home  circle,  a  library  of  the  best  works 
is  necessary.  Do  not  introduce  the  milk  and  water  fiction  of  the 
present  day,  but  books  of  character.  Our  homes  should  have  their 
Sabbaths  and  their  family  altars.  Around  these  observances  cling 
many  of  the  softest  and  most  sacred  memories  of  our  lives. 


HOME    MEMORIES. 

Thomas  Hood 

%I     REMEMBER,  I  remember, 
!gil     The  house  where  I  was  born, 
*®    The  little  window  where  the  sun 
Came  peeping  in  at  morn. 
He  never  came  a  wink  too  soon, 
Nor  brought  too  long  a  day ; 
170 


HOME    MEMOBIE9. 

But  now  I  often  wish  the  night 
Had  borne  my  breath  away ! 

I  remember,  I  remember, 
The  roses,  red  and  white, 
The  violets  and  the  lily-cups, — 
Those  flowers  made  of  light ! 
The  lilacs  where  the  robin  built, 
And  where  my  brother  set 
The  laburnum  on  his  birthday  — 
The  tree  is  living  yet ! 

I  remember,  I  remember, 

Where  I  was  used  to  swing, 

And  thought  the  air  must  rash  as  fresh 

To  swallows  on  the  wing ; 

My  spirit  flew  in  feathers  then, 

That  is  so  heavy  now, 

And  summer  pools  could  hardly  cocl 

The  fever  on  my  brow  1 

I  remember,  I  remember, 
The  fir-trees  dark  and  high ; 
I  used  to  think  their  slender  tops 
"Were  close  against  the  sky. 
It  was  a  childish  ignorance, 
But  now  'tis  little  joy 
To  know  I'm  farther  off  from  heaven 
Than  when  I  was  a  boy. 
171 


SINGING    IN    THE    FAMILY. 

fULTFVATE  singing  in  your  family.  Begin  when  the  child  is 
not  yet  three  years  old.  The  songs  and  hymns  your  child- 
hood sang,  bring  them  all  back  to  your  memory,  and  teach 
them  to  your  little  ones ;  mix  them  all  together  to  meet  the  varying 
moods  as  in  after  life  they  come  over  us  so  mysteriously  at  times. 
Many  a  time,  in  the  very  whirl  of  business,  in  the  sunshine  and 
gayety  of  the  avenue,  amid  the  splendor  of  the  drive  in  the  park, 
some  little  thing  wakes  up  the  memories  of  early  youth —  the  old 
mill,  the  cool  spring,  the  shady  tree  by  the  little  school-house — and 
the  next  instant  we  almost  see  again  the  ruddy  cheeks,  the  smiling 
faces,  and  the  merry  eyes  of  schoolmates,  some  of  whom  are  gray- 
headed  now,  while  most  have  passed  from  amid  earth's  weary  noises. 
And,  anon,  "  the  song  my  mother  sang  "  springs  unbidden  to  the 
lips,  and  soothes  and  sweetens  all  these  memories.  At  other  times, 
amid  the  crushing  mishaps  of  business,  a  merry  ditty  of  the  olden 
time  breaks  in  upon  the  ugly  train  of  thought,  and  throws  the  mind 
hi  another  channel ;  light  breaks  from  behind  the  cloud  in  the  sky, 
and  new  courage  is  given  TIS.  The  honest  man  goes  gladly  to  his 
work ;  and  when,  the  day's  labor  done,  his  tools  are  laid  aside  and 
he  is  on  his  way  home,  where  wife  and  child  and  the  tidy  table  and 
cheery  fireside  await  him,  how  can  he  but  have  music  in  his  heart  to 
break  forth  so  often  into  the  merry  whistle  or  the  jocund  song  ? 
Moody  silence,  not  the  merry  song,  weighs  down  the  dishonest 
tradesman,  the  perfidious  clerk,  the  unfaithful  servant,  the  perjured 
partner. 

178 


ART    IN    THE    FAMILY. 

'•  We  accord,"  says  a  gentleman  who  has  written  much,  "our 
unqualified  indorsement  of  the  above ;  and  even  now,  although  we 
have  passed  our  three-score  years,  the  songs  of  our  youth  are  often 
resurrected,  and  we  love  to  hum  them  over  again,  and  often  do  so, 
in  the  lone  hours  of  the  night,  when  there  are  none  to  hear  save  our- 
self  and  the  drowsy  '  gray  spiders  on  the  wall ; '  and  while  doing  so, 
we  feel  less  inclined  toward  'treason,  stratagem  and  spoils,'  than  at 
any  other  hour  within  the  twenty-four.  "We  fondly  look  back  to  the 
days  when  we  were  as  musical  as  a  hand  organ — and  perhaps  as 
'  cracked '  as  many  of  them,  too — those  days  when  we  so  lightly 
touched  the  keys  to  the  measure  of  the  songs  we  sang.  "We  often 
regret  time,  circumstance  and  advancing  years  have  so  effectually 
quieted  our  vocal  muse ;  still  we  revert  to  the  ballads  of  yore,  and 
mentally  exclaim, 

"  '  Sing  me  the  songs  that  to  me  were  so  dear, 
Long,  long  ago ;  long,  long  ago.  ' " 

— Anonymous. 


ART    IN   THE    FAMILY. 

fsffT  hiw:  boen  said  that  there  is  sure  to  be  contentment  in  a  home, 
J|[  In  the  windows  of  which  can  be  seen  birds  or  flowers,  and  it 
*^  may  also  be  added  that  there  will  be  the  same  conditions 
wherever  there  are  pictures  on  the  walls.  It  is,  of  course,  not  every 
one  who  is  a  judge  of  art,  but  even  a  contemplation  of  art  will  edu- 
cate, and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  a  man  cannot  have  a  painting  in  his 
room  and  see  it  day  after  day  without  sooner  or  later  beginning  to 
t>3  able  to  tell  its  merits  or  defects,  and  thus  being  better  fitted  to 
judge  of  others  in  the  future.  The  engravings  and  chromos  seen  in 

173 


AET    IN    THE     FAMILY. 

the  homes  of  the  poor  may,  if  measured  by  the  critical  rules  of  art, 
be  wretched  daubs,  but  they  at  least  show  a  longing  and  an  aspira- 
tion after  beauty,  while  their  presence  helps  to  produce  a  repose  of 
mind,  and  brings  nothing  with  it  but  good.  The  loving  manner  in 
which  children  linger  over  pictures  tells  how  deeply  this  feeling  is 
implanted  in  the  heart,  and  long  before  they  can  read,  their  dawning 
powers  are  gradually  being  strengthened  by  these  silent  educators. 

Nor  is  the  influence  which  flowers  have,  any  less  than  that  of 
paintings.  At  all  seasons  of  the  year  they  are  gladly  welcomed. 
They  are  emblematic  of  both,  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  life,  and 
religion  has  associated  them  with  the  highest  spiritual  verities. 
Faded  although  they  sometimes  may  be,  they  have  the  power  to 
wake  the  chords  of  memory  and  make  us  children  again.  At  the 
sick  bed  and  the  marriage  feast,  on  the  altar  and  the  cathedral  walls, 
they  have  a  meaning,  and  the  humblest  home  looks  brighter  where 
they  bloom.  A  few  years  ago,  at  horticultural  societies  in  England, 
prizes  were  offered  to  villagers  for  the  best  efforts  in  cottage  gar- 
dening, and  the  result  was  that  a  great  change  came  over  the 
home-life  of  the  people.  Instead  of  gardens  filled  with  rank  grass 
and  weeds,  there  could  be  seen  flaming  hollyhocks,  blood-red  roses 
and  purple  geraniums,  and  a  spirit  of  friendly  rivalry  and  emulation 
was  created,  leading  to  improvements  in  households,  and  aiding  habits 
of  cleanliness  and  industry.  Let  any  one  walk  through  our  markets 
on  these  bright  spring  mornings  and  watch  how  tenderly  some  poor 
seamstress  will  linger  over  a  tiny  flower  and  bear  it  away  proudly  to 
cheer  the  loneliness  of  her  scantily  furnished  room,  and  he  will  admit 
that  if  such  a  little  thing  can  bring  pleasure  or  satisfaction,  every 
effort  made  to  improve  the  taste  of  the  masses  and  lead  them  to 
make  home  pleasant  is  to  be  commended  as  weakening  the  influ- 
ence of  evil  and  diffusing  a  power  which  will  prove  a  potent  factor 
for  good. — Baltimore  American. 

174 


CONYEKSATION. 

MONG  home  amusements  the  best  is  the  good  old  habit  of  con- 
versation, the  talking  over  the  events  of  the  day,  in  bright 
and  quick  play  of  wit  and  fancy,  the  story  which  brings  the 
laugh,  and  the  speaking  the  good  and  kind  and  true  things,  which 
all  have  in  their  hearts.  It  is  not  so  much  by  dwelling  upon  what 
members  of  the  family  have  in  common,  as  bringing  each  to  the 
other  something  interesting  and  amusing,  that  home  life  is  to  be 
made  cheerful  and  joyous.  Each  one  must  do  his  part  to  make  con- 
versation genial  and  happy.  "We  are  too  ready  to  converse  with 
newspapers  and  books,  to  seek  some  companion  at  the  store,  hotel, 
or  club-room,  and  to  forget  that  home  is  anything  more  than  a  place 
to  sleep  and  eat  in.  The  revival  of  conversation,  the  entertainment 
of  one  another,  as  a  roomful  of  people  will  entertain  themselves,  is 
one  secret  of  a  happy  home.  Wherever  it  is  wanting,  disease  has 
struck  into  the  root  of  the  tree ;  there  is  a  want  which  is  felt  with 
increasing  force  as  time  goes  on.  Conversation,  in  many  cases,  is 
just  what  prevents  many  people  from  relapsing  into  utter  selfishness 
at  their  firesides.  This  conversation  should  not  simply  occupy  hus- 
band and  wife,  and  other  older  members  of  the  family,  but  extend  it- 
self to  the  children.  Parents  should  be  careful  to  talk  with  them,  to 
enter  into  their  life,  to  share  their  trifles,  to  assist  in  their  studies,  to 
meet  them  in  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  their  childhood.  It  is  a 
great  step  in  education,  when  around  the  evening  lamp  are  gathered 
the  different  members  of  a  family,  sharing  their  occupation  with  one 
another — the  older  assisting  the  younger,  each  one  contributing  to 
the  entertainment  of  the  other,  and  all  feeling  that  the  evening  has 

175 


SPEAK     CHEERFUL    WORDS. 

passed  only  too  rapidly  away.  This  is  the  truest  and  best  amuse- 
ment. It  is  the  healthy  education  of  great  and  noble  characters. 
There  is  the  freedom,  the  breadth,  the  joyousness  of  natural  life. 
The  time  spent  thus  by  parents,  in  the  higher  entertainment  of  their 
children,  bears  a  harvest  of  eternal  blessings,  and  these  long  evenings 
furnish  just  the  time. — GTvwrcJmum. 


SPEAK     CHEERFUL    WORDS. 

rHY  is  it  that  so  many  people  keep  all  their  pleasant 
thoughts  and  kind  words  about  a  man  bottled  and  sealed 
until  he  is  dead,  when  they  come  and  break  the  bottle 
over  his  coffin,  and  bathe  his  shroud  in  fragrance  ?  Many  a  man  goes 
through  life  with  scarcely  one  bright,  cheerful,  encouraging,  hopeful 
word.  He  toils  hard  and  in  lowly  obscurity.  He  gives  out  his  life 
freely  and  unstintedly  for  others.  I  remember  such  a  man.  He 
was  not  brilliant ;  he  was  not  great ;  but  he  was  faithful.  He  had 
many  things  to  discourage  him.  Troubles  thickened  about  his  life. 
He  was  misrepresented  and  misunderstood.  Everybody  believed  that 
he  was  a  good  man,  but  no  one  ever  said  a  kindly  word  or  pleasant 
thing  to  him.  He  never  heard  a  compliment,  scarcely  ever  a  good 
wish.  No  one  ever  took  any  pains  to  encourage  him,  to  strengthen 
his  feeble  knees,  to  lighten  his  burdens,  or  to  lift  up  his  heart  by  a 
gentle  deed  of  love,  or  by  a  cheerful  word.  He  was  neglected. 
Unkind  things  were  often  said  of  him. 

I  stood  at  his  coffin,  and  then  there  were  many  tongues  to  speak 
his  praise.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  aspersion  in  the  air.  Men 
spoke  of  self  denial — of  his  work  among  the  poor,  of  his  quietness, 
modesty,  his  humility,  his  pureness  of  heart,  his  faith  and  prayer. 

176 


NONE    LIVETH    TO    HIMSELF. 

There  were  many  who  spoke  indignantly  of  the  charges  that 
falsehood  had  forged  against  him  in  past  years,  and  of  the  treatment 
he  had  received.  There  were  enough  kind  things  said  during  the 
two  or  three  days  that  he  lay  in  his  coffin,  and  while  the  company 
stood  around  his  open  grave,  to  have  blessed  him  and  made  him 
happy  all  his  fifty  years,  and  to  have  thrown  sweetness  and  joy  about 
his  soul  during  all  his  painful  and  weary  journey.  There  was 
enough  sunshine  wasted  about  the  black  coffin  and  dark  grave  to 
have  made  his  whole  life-path  bright  as  the  clearest  day. 

But  his  ears  were  closed  then,  and  could  not  hear  a  word  that 
was  spoken.  His  heart  was  still  then,  and  could  not  be  thrilled  by 
the  grateful  sounds.  He  cared  nothing  then  for  the  sweet  flowers 
that  were  piled  upon  his  coffin.  The  love  blossomed  out  too  late. 
The  kindness  came  when  the  life  could  not  receive  its  blessings. — 
Anonymous. 


NONE    LIVETH    TO    HIMSELF. 

>OD  has  written  upon  the  flower  that  sweetens  the  air,  upon  the 
breeze  that  rocks  the  flower  upon  its  stem,  upon  the  rain-drops 
that  swell  the  mighty  river,  upon  the  dew-drops  that  refresh 
the  smallest  sprig  of  moss  that  rears  its  head  in  the  desert,  upon  the 
ocean  that  rocks  every  swimmer  in  its  channel,  upon  every  penciled 
shell  that  sleeps  in  the  caverns  of  the  deep,  as  well  as  upon  the 
mighty  sun  which  warms  and  cheers  the  millions  of  creatures  that 
live  in  his  light — upon  all  he  has  written,  "  None  of  us  liveth  to 
himself." — Anonymous. 

L  177 


SPEAK    A    GOOD    WORD. 

yon  say  anything  about  a  neighbor  or  friend,  or  even  a 
stranger,  say  no  ill.  It  is  a  Christian  and  brotherly  charity  to 
suppress  our  knowledge  of  evil  of  one  another,  unless  our 
higher  public  duty  compels  us  to  bear  accusing  witness.  And  if  it 
be  true  charity  to  keep  our  knowledge  of  such  evils  to  ourselves, 
much  more  should  we  refuse  to  spread  evil  report  of  one  another. 
Discreditable  as  the  fact  is,  it  is  by  far  the  commonest  tendency  to 
suppress  the  good  we  know  of  our  neighbors  and  friends.  We  act 
in  this  matter  as  though  we  felt  that  by  pushing  our  fellows  down  or 
back  a  peg  we  were  putting  ourselves  up  and  forward.  We  are 
jealous  of  commendation  unless  we  get  the  larger  share.  Social  con- 
versation, as  known  to  every  observer,  is  largely  made  up  of  what  is 
best  understood  by  the  term  scandal.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a 
talkative  group,  of  either  sex,  who  could  spend  an  evening  or  an 
hour  together  without  evil  speech  of  somebody.  "  Blessed  are  the 
peace-makers,"  is  not  the  maxim  by  which  we  are  chiefly  governed 
in  our  treatment  of  personalities.  Better  a  thousand  times,  stand  or 
sit  dumb  than  to  open  our  lips  never  so  eloquently  in  the  disparage- 
ment of  others.  What  we  should  do  in  this,  as  in  all  our  human 
relations,  is  to  practice  the  Golden  Rule.  If  we  do  unto  others  as 
we  would  that  others  should  do  unto  us,  we  shall  be  exceedingly 
careful  not  to  volunteer  ill  words  about  them.  When  other  than  a 
good  word  is  to  be  spoken,  let  it  be  spoken  to  the  person  concerned, 
that  he  may  know  your  motive  is  not  idle,  cowardly  and  sinister, 
and  that  he  may  have  a  chance  to  defend  himself. — Anonymous. 

178 


SMILES. 

Mrs.   Burr. 

£|ffF  people  will  only  notice,  they  will  be  amazed  to  find  how 
jjl|[  much  a  really  enjoyable  evening  owes  to  smiles.  But  few 
*^®  consider  what  an  important  symbol  of  fine  intellect  and  fine 
feeling  they  are.  Yet  all  smiles,  after  childhood,  are  things  of 
education.  Savages  do  not  smile ;  coarse,  brutal,  cruel  men  may 
laugh,  but  they  seldom  smile.  The  affluence,  the  benediction,  the 
radiance,  which 

Fills  the  silence  like  a  speech, 

is  the  smile  of  a  full  appreciative  heart. 

The  face  that  -grows  finer  as  it  listens,  and  then  breaks  into  sun- 
shine instead  of  words,  has  a  subtle,  charming  influence,  universally 
felt,  though  very  seldom  understood  or  acknowledged.  Personal 
and  sarcastic  remarks  show  not  only  a  bad  heart  and  a  bad  head, 
but  bad  taste  also. 

Now,  society  may  tolerate  a  bad  heart  and  a  bad  head,  but  it  will 
not  endure  bad  taste ;  and  it  is  in  just  such  points  as  this  that  the 
conventional  laws  which  they  have  made,  represent  and  enforce  real 
obligations.  There  are  many  who  would  not  cease  from  evil  speak- 
ing because  it  is  wrong,  who  yet  restrain  themselves  because  it  is 
vulgar.  Lord  Bacon  tells  of  a  nobleman  whom  he  knew — a  man 
who  gave  lordly  entertainments,  but  always  suffered  some  sarcastic 
personality  to  "  mar  a  good  dinner,"  adding,  "  Discretion  of  speech 
is  more  than  eloquence  ;  and  to  speak  agreeably  to  him  with  whom 
we  deal  is  more  than  to  speak  in  good  words ;  for  he  that  hath  a 
satirical  vein,  making  others  afraid  of  his  wit,  hath  need  to  be  afraid 

of  another's  memory." 

179 


JOY    BRINGERS. 

OME  men  move  through  life  as  a  band  of  music  moves  down 
the  street,  flinging  out  pleasure  on  every  side  through  the  air 
to  every  one,  far  and  near,  that  can  listen.  Some  men  fill 
the  air  with  their  presence  and  sweetness,  as  orchards  in  October 
days  fill  the  air  with  the  perfume  of  ripe  fruit.  Some  women  cling 
to  their  own  houses,  like  the  honeysuckle  over  the  door,  yet,  like  it, 
sweeten  all  the  region  with  the  subtle  fragrance  of  their  goodness. 
There  are  trees  of  righteousness,  which  are  ever  dropping  precious 
fruit  around  them.  There  are  lives  that  shine  like  star-beams,  or 
charm  the  heart  like  songs  sung  upon  a  holy  day. 

How  great  a  bounty  and  blessing  it  is  to  hold  the  royal  gifts  of 
the  soul,  so  that  they  shall  be  music  to  some  and  fragrance  to  others, 
and  life  to  all !  It  would  be  no  unworthy  thing  to  live  for,  to  make 
the  power  which  we  have  within  us  the  breath  of  other  men's  joy  ; 
to  scatter  sunshine  where  only  clouds  and  shadows  reign  ;  to  fill  the 
atmosphere  where  earth's  weary  toilers  must  stand,  with  a  brightness 
which  they  can  not  create  for  themselves,  and  which  they  long  for, 
enjoy  and  appreciate. — Anonymous. 


GRUMBLERS. 

>HERE  are  persons  who  are  not  satisfied  in  circumstances  that 
to  all  but  themselves  seem  to  be  the  most  favorable  to  their 
interests.     Leigh  Hunt — in  one  of  his  letters,  we  think — 
speaks  of  a  day  that  could   not  make   any  creature  happy  but   a 

180 


LOVE    TO    OUR    FELLOW    MEN. 

vendor  of  umbrellas.  Yet  a  friend  of  ours,  remembering  this  utter- 
ance, availed  himself  of  a  day  "  of  never-tiring  rain  "  to  congratulate 
his  umbrella  merchant,  and  he  secured  this  reply :  "  It's  all  very 
well,  sir,  so  far  as  my  umbrellas  are  concerned,  but  you  see  I'm  not 
selling  a  single  parasol !"  He  would  have  had  it  wet  on  one  side  of 
the  street,  and  stormy  upon  the  other,  and  since  it  was  not,  he  was 
dissatisfied — a  natural  grumbler. — Anonymous. 


LOVE    TO    OUR    FELLOW     MEN. 

(ABOU   BEN   ADHEM.) 

Leigh  Hunt. 

BOU  BEN  ADHEM,  may  his  tribe  increase, 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 
And  saw  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 
Making  it  rich,  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 
An  angel,  writing  in  a  book  of  gold. 
Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold, 
And  to  the  presence  in  his  room  he  said  : 
"  What  writest  thou  ?"     The  vision  raised  its  head, 
And  with  a  look,  made  all  of  sweet  accord, 
Answered,  "  The  names  of  those  that  love  the  Lord." 
"  And  is  mine  one  ?"  said  Abou.     "  Nay,  not  so," 
Replied  the  angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low, 
But  cheerly  still,  and  said,  "  I  pray  thee,  then, 
Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow  men." 
The  angel  wrote  and  vanished.     The  next  night 
He  came  again  with  a  great  waking  light, 
And  showed  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  blest, 
And,  lo  !  Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest. 

181 


WOKDS    TO    BOYS. 

Jamea  T.  Fields. 

GSR  "WOULD  keep  "  better  hours,"  if  I  were  a  boy  again ;  that  is, 
I  would  go  to  bed  earlier  than  most  boys  do.  Nothing  gives 
*^®  more  mental  and  bodily  vigor  than  sound  rest  when  properly 
applied.  Sleep  is  our  great  replenisher,  and  if  we  neglect  to  take  it 
regularly  in  childhood,  all  the  worse  for  us  when  we  grow  up.  If 
we  go  to  bed  early,  we  ripen ;  if  we  sit  up  late,  we  decay ;  and 
sooner  or  later  we  contract  a  disease  called  insomnia,  allowing  it  to 
be  permanently  fixed  upon  us,  and  then  we  begin  to  decay,  even  in 
youth.  Late  hours  are  shadows  from  the  grave. 

If  I  were  a  boy  again,  I  would  practise  perseverance  oftener,  and 
never  give  up  a  thing  because  it  was  hard  or  inconvenient  to  do  it. 
If  we  want  light,  we  must  conquer  darkness.  When  I  think  of 
mathematics  I  blush  at  the  recollection  of  how  often  I  "  gave  in " 
years  ago.  There  is  no  trait  more  valuable  than  a  determination  to 
persevere  when  the  right  thing  is  to  be  accomplished.  We  are 
inclined  to  give  up  too  easily  in  difficult  or  unpleasant  situations,  and 
the  point  I  would  establish  with  myself,  if  the  choice  was  again 
within  my  grasp,  would  be  never  to  relinquish  my  hold  on  a  possible 
success  if  mortal  strength  or  brains  in  my  case  were  adequate  to  the 
occasion.  That  was  a  capital  lesson  which  a  learned  Professor 
taught  one  of  his  students  in  the  lecture-room  after  some  chemical 
experiment.  The  lights  had  been  put  out  in  the  hall,  and  by  acci- 
dent some  small  article  dropped  on  the  floor  from  the  Professor's 
hand.  The  Professor  lingered  behind,  endeavoring  to  pick  it  up. 
"Nevermind,"  said  the  student,  "it  is  of  no  consequence  to-night, 
sir,  whether  we  find  it  or  no."  "That  is  true,"  replied  the  Pro- 

182 


THE    LIGHT    OF    A    CHEERFUL     FACE. 

f  essor ;  "  but  it  is  of  grave  consequence  to  me,  as  a  principle,  that  I 
am  not  foiled  in  my  determination  to  find  it."  Perseverance  can 
sometimes  equal  genius  in  its  results.  "There  are  only  two  crea- 
tures," says  the  Eastern  proverb,  "  who  can  surmount  the  pyramids 
— the  eagle  and  the  snail." 


THE    LIGHT    OF    A    CHEEKFUL    FACE. 

'HERE  is  no  greater  every-day  virtue  than  cheerfulness.  This 
quality  in  man,  among  men,  is  like  sunshine  to  the  day,  of 
gentle  renewing  moisture  to  parched  hearts.  The  light  of  a 
cheerful  face  diffuses  itself,  and  communicates  the  happy  spirit  that 
inspires  it.  The  sourest  temper  must  sweeten  in  the  atmosphere  of 
continuous  good  humor.  As  well  might  fog  and  cloud,  and  vapor, 
hope  to  cling  to  the  sun-illuminated  landscape,  as  the  blues  and 
moroseness  to  combat  jovial  speech  and  exhilarating  laughter.  Be 
cheerful  always.  There  is  no  path  but  will  be  easier  traveled,  no 
load  but  will  be  lighter,  no  shadow  on  heart  or  brain,  but  will  lift 
sooner  in  presence  of  a  determined  cheerfulness.  It  may  sometimes 
seem  difficult  for  the  happiest  temper  to  keep  the  countenance  of 
peace  and  content ;  but  the  difficulty  will  vanish  when  we  truly  con- 
sider that  sullen  gloom  and  passionate  despair  do  nothing  but  multi- 
ply thorns  and  thicken  sorrows.  Ill  comes  to  us  as  providentially  as 
good,  and  is  a  good,  if  we  rightfully  apply  its  lessons.  Who  will 
not  then  cheerfully  accept  the  ill,  and  thus  blunt  its  apparent  sting  ? 
Cheerfulness  ought  to  be  the  fruit  of  philosophy  and  of  Christianity. 
What  is  gained  by  peevishness  and  fretf ulness,  by  perverse  sadness 
and  sullenness  ?  If  we  are  ill,  let  us  be  cheered  by  the  trust  that  we 

183 


DOMESTIC     BLISS. 

shall  soon  be  in  health ;  if  misfortune  befall  us,  let  us  be  cheered  by 
hopeful  visions  of  better  fortune ;  if  death  robs  us  of  dear  ones,  let 
us  be  cheered  by  the  thought  that  they  are  only  gone  before  to  the 
blissful  bowers  where  we  shall  all  meet  to  part  no  more  forever. 
Cultivate  cheerfulness  if  only  for  personal  profit.  You  will  do  and 
bear  every  duty  and  burden  better  by  being  cheerful.  It  will  be 
your  consoler  in  solitude,  your  passport  and  commendator  in  society. 
You  will  be  more  sought  after,  more  trusted  and  esteemed  for  your 
steady  cheerfulness.  The  bad,  the  vicious,  may  be  boisterously  gay 
and  vulgarly  humorous,  but  seldom  or  never  truly  cheerful.  Gen- 
uine cheerfulness  is  an  almost  certain  index  of  a  happy  and  a  pure 
Anonymous. 


DOMESTIC    BLISS. 

Jamet  Thornton. 

|APPY  they,  the  happiest  of  their  kind, 
Whom  gentler  stars  unite,  and  in  one  fate 
Their  hearts,  their  fortunes,  and  their  beings  blend. 
'Tis  not  the  coarser  tie  of  human  laws, 
Unnatural  oft  and  foreign  to  the  mind, 
That  binds  their  peace,  but  harmony  itself, 
Attuning  all  their  passions  into  love ; 
Where  friendship  full  exerts  her  softest  power, 
Perfect  esteem,  enliven'd  by  desire 
Ineffable,  and  sympathy  of  soul ; 
Thought  meeting  thought,  and  will  preventing  will, 
With  boundless  confidence. 

184 


THE    BRIGHT    SIDE. 

on  the  bright  side.  It  is  the  right  side.  The  times  may 
be  hard,  but  it  will  make  them  no  easier  to  wear  a  gloomy 
and  sad  countenance.  It  is  the  sunshine  and  not  the  cloud 
that  gives  beauty  to  the  flower.  There  is  always  before  or  around 
us  that  which  should  cheer  and  fill  the  heart  with  warmth  and  glad- 
ness. The  sky  is  blue  ten  times  where  it  is  black  once.  You  have 
troubles,  it  may  be.  So  have  others.  None  are  free  from  them ; 
and  perhaps  it  is  as  well  that  none  should  be.  They  give  sinew  and 
tone  to  life,  fortitude  and  courage  to  man.  That  would  be  a  dull 
sea,  and  the  sailor  would  never  acquire  skill,  where  there  is  nothing 
to  disturb  ite  surface.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  one  to  extract  all  the 
happiness  and  enjoyment  he  can  within  and  without  him ;  and  above 
all,  he  should  look  on  the  bright  side.  What  though  things  do  look 
a  little  dark  ?  The  lane  will  turn,  and  the  night  will  end  in  broad 
day.  In  the  long  run  the  great  balance  rights  itself.  What  appears 
ill  becomes  well — that  which  appears  wrong,  right.  Men  are  not 
always  to  hang  down  their  heads  or  lips,  and  those  who  do,  only 
show  that  they  are  departing  from  the  paths  of  true  common  sense 
and  right.  There  is  more  virtue  in  one  sunbeam  than  in  a  whole 
hemisphere  of  clouds  and  gloom.  Therefore  we  repeat,  look  on  the 
bright  side.  Cultivate  all  that  is  warm  and  genial — not  the  cold  and 
repulsive,  the  dark  and  morose. — The  Interior. 


TT  is  worth  a  thousand  pounds  a  year  to  have  the  habit  of  looking 
on  the  bright  side  of  things. — Dr.  Johnson. 

186 


THE    EVENING    HEARTHSTONE. 

§LADLY  now  we  gather  round  it, 
For  the  toiling  day  is  done, 
And  the  gay  and  solemn  twilight 
Follows  down  the  golden  sun, 
Shadows  lengthen  on  the  pavement, 

Stalk  like  giants  through  the  gloom, 
Wander  past  the  dusky  casement, 
Creep  around  the  fire-lit  room. 
Draw  the  curtain,  close  the  shutters, 

Place  the  slippers  by  the  fire  ; 
Though  the  rude  wind  loudly  mutters, 
What  care  we  for  wind  sprite's  ire  ? 

What  care  we  for  outward  seeming  ? 

Fickle  fortune's  frown  or  smile  ? 
If  around  us  love  is  beaming, 

Love  can  human  ills  beguile. 
'Neath  the  cottage  roof  and  palace, 

From  the  peasant  to  the  king, 
All  are  quaffing  from  life's  chalice 
Bubbles  that  enchantment  bring. 
Grates  are  glowing,  music  flowing 
From  the  lips  we  love  the  best ; 
Oh,  the  joy,  the  bliss  of  knowing 
There  are  hearts  whereon  to  rest ! 
186 


CHEERFULNESS. 

Hearts  that  throb  with  eager  gladness — 

Hearts  that  echo  to  our  own — 
While  grim  care  and  haunting  sadness 

Mingle  ne'er  in  look  or  tone. 
Care  may  tread  the  halls  of  daylight, 
Sadness  haunt  the  midnight  hour, 
But  the  weird  and  witching  twilight 
Brings  the  glowing  hearthstone's  dower. 
Altar  of  our  holiest  feelings ! 

Childhood's  well-remembered  shrine ! 
Spirit  yearnings — soul  revealings — 
Wreaths  immortal  round  thee  twine ! 

— Anonymous. 


CHEERFULNESS. 

your  cheerfulness  be  felt  for  good  wherever  you  are,  and  let 
your  smiles  be  scattered  like  sunbeams  "  on  the  just  as  well 
as  on  the  unjust."  Such  a  disposition  will  yield  a  rich 
reward,  for  its  happy  effects  will  come  home  to  you  and  brighten 
your  moments  of  thought.  Cheerfulness- makes  the  mind  clear, 
gives  tone  to  thought,  adds  grace  and  beauty  to  the  countenance. 
Joubert  says,  "  When  you  give,  give  with  joy,  smiling."  Smiles  are 
little  things,  cheap  articles  to  be  fraught  with  so  many  blessings, 
both  to  the  giver  and  the  receiver — pleasant  little  ripples  to  watch 
as  we  stand  on  the  shore  of  every-day  life.  These  are  the  higher 
and  better  responses  of  nature  to  the  emotion  of  the  soul.  Let  the 
children  have  the  benefit  of  them — those  little  ones  who  need  the 
sunshine  of  the  heart  to  educate  them,  and  would  find  a  level  for 

187 


COURTESY    AT    HOME. 

their  buoyant  nature  in  the  cheerful,  loving  faces  of  those  who  need 
them.  Let  them  not  be  kept  from  the  middle  aged,  who  need  the 
encouragement  they  bring.  Give  your  smiles  also  to  the  aged. 
They  come  to  them  like  the  quiet  rain  of  summer,  making  fresh  and 
verdant  the  long,  weary  path  of  life.  They  look  for  them  from  you, 
who  are  rejoicing  in  the  fullness  of  life. 

If  your  seat  is  hard  to  sit  upon,  stand  up.  If  a  rock  rises  up 
before  you,  roll  it  away,  or  climb  over  it.  If  you  want  money,  earn 
it.  It  takes  longer  to  skin  an  elephant  than  a  mouse,  but  the  skin  is 
worth  something.  If  you  want  confidence,  prove  yourself  worthy 
of  it.  Do  not  be  content  with  doing  what  another  has  done — sur- 
pass it.  Deserve  success,  and  it  will  come.  The  boy  was  not  born  a 
man.  The  sun  does  not  rise  like  a  rocket,  or  go  down  like  a  bullet 
fired  from  a  gun ;  slowly  and  surely  it  makes  its  round,  and  never 
tires.  It  is  as  easy  to  be  a  lead  horse  as  a  wheel  horse.  If  the  job 
be  long,  the  pay  will  be  greater  ;  if  the  task  be  hard,  the  more  com- 
petent you  must  be  to  do  it. — Anvrvymoua. 


COUKTESY    AT    HOME. 

§OUKTES Y  is  the  perfume  of  Christian  grace.     Its  luster  should 
be  an  expression  of  the  best  emotions  of  the  soul.     The  word 
is  derived  from  the  French,  and  is  closely  allied  therefore,  in 
origin,  with  "  courtier,"  which  has  an  equivocal  meaning.     A  cour- 
tier is  supposed  to  possess  elegant  manners,  cultivated  however  and 
used  mainly  for  selfish  ends.     Politeness,  which  is  the  synonym  of 
courtesy,  is  of  nobler  birth.     It  comes  from  a  Greek  term,  signify- 
ing citizenship.     As  the   divine  kingdom  is   distinct  in  its  laws, 

188 


COUETESY    AT    HOlilS. 

spirit,  and  purpose,  from  the  kingdoms  of  this  earth,  so  too  are  its 
members  held  together  by  a  supernatural  life.  They  compose  one 
body,  ruled  by  one  Supreme  Head.  Christian  politeness  is  therefore 
the  product  of  regeneration.  Its  roots  are  in  the  heart.  They  are 
watered  from  above.  All,  then,  who  are  subjects  of  Divine  grace, 
should  be  gracious,  kind,  considerate,  courteous,  and  polite  in  their 
deportment,  and  show  forth  the  savor  of  the  precious  anointing  they 
have  received. 

How  much  a  sincere  and  hearty  politeness  may  do  for  others  is 
readily  tested  and  measured  by  all  who  have  learned  to  appreciate  it 
for  themselves.  While  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  be  courteous 
toward  strangers,  or  toward  people  of  distinction,  whom  one  meets 
in  society  or  on  public  occasions,  still  it  should  be  remembered  that 
it  is  at  home,  in  the  family,  and  among  kindred,  that  an  every-day 
politeness  of  manners  is  really  most  to  be  prized.  There  it  confers 
substantial  benefits  and  brings  the  sweetest  returns.  The  little 
attentions  which  members  of  the  same  household  may  show  towards 
one  another  day  by  day  belong,  in  fact,  to  what  is  styled  "  good 
breeding."  There  cannot  be  any  ingrained  gentility  which  does  not 
exhibit  itself  first  at  home.  There,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  it  will 
be  able  to  demonstrate  how  much  genuine  politeness  there  is  in  the 
heart.  A  well-ordered  family  cannot  afford  to  dispense  with  the 
observance  of  the  good  rules  of  mutual  intercourse  which  are 
enforced  in  good  society.  A  churlish,  sour,  morose  deportment  at 
home  is  simply  cruel,  for  it  cuts  into  the  tenderost  sensibilities  and 
hurts  love  just  where  love  is  strongest  and  most  loyal.  Parents  and 
children,  brothers  and  sisters,  husbands  and  wives,  never  lose  any- 
thing by  mutual  politeness ;  on  the  contrary,  by  maintaining  not 
only  its  forms,  but  by  the  inward  cultivation  of  its  spirit,  they 
become  contributors  to  that  domestic  felicity  which  is,  in  itself,  a 
foretaste  of  heaven. — Christian  Weekly. 

189 


CHRISTIAN    COURTESY. 

f|I  SAW  somewhere  the  other  day  a  sentence  like  this :  "  The 
truest  courtesy  is  the  truest  Christianity."  This  is  not  simply 
*^®  saying,  I  take  it,  that  a  Christian  will  be  a  gentleman ;  it 
teaches  that  the  spirit  of  self-denial,  of  foregoing  personal  advan- 
tages for  the  sake  of  favoring  another,  is  the  root  and  substance  of 
the  regenerated  life.  Now,  here  is  a  practical  test,  brought  near  to 
us  in  all  the  scenes  of  our  intercourse  with  our  fellows,  showing 
what  manner  of  spirit  we  are  of.  If  we  are  truly — that  is  sincerely 
— courteous  and  polite,  we  are  serving  Christ,  showing  his  example, 
and  exhibiting  his  spirit.  If  in  the  collisions  of  personal  interests 
through  the  day  we  are  more  careful  to  favor  ourselves,  to  secure 
the  best,  to  be  served  first,  to  gratify  our  own  wishes  and  tastes, 
than  to  gratify  and  serve  others,  I  care  not  what  names  we  bear, 
or  what  professions  we  make,  or  what  religious  exercises  we  engage 
in,  the  spirit  of  the  Master  is  not  in  us. — Anonymous. 


'O  man  can  possibly  improve  in  any  company,  for  which  he  has 
not  respect  enough  to  be  under  some  degree  of  restraint.— 
Lord  Chesterfield. 


T>EOPLE  seldom  improve  when  they  have  no  other  model  but 
themselves  to  copy  after. — Olwoer  Goldsmith. 

190 


^  .nj 

2,       & 


f» 


cr 
P 


f 


0) 


MOKAIITY    OF  MANNERS. 

Horace  Mann,. 

easily  and  rapidly  mature  into  morals.     As  child- 
ces  to  manhood,  the  transition  from  bad  manners 
orals  is  almost  imperceptible.     Vulgar  and  obscene 
mind,  engender  impure  images  in  the  imagination 
desires  prurient.     From  the  prevalent  state  of 
proceed  as  water  rises  from  a  fountain.     Hence 
y  only  a  word  or  phrase  becomes  a  thought,  is 
bellished  by  the  imagination,  is  inflamed  into  a 
ns  strength  and  boldness  by  always  being  welcome, 
r  some  urgent  temptation,  it  dares,  for  once,  to  put 
of  action  ;  it  is  then  ventured  upon  again  and 
ntly  and  less  warily,  until  repetition  forges  the 
and  then  language,  imagination,  desire  and  habit 
to  the  prison  house  of  sin.     In  this  way  profane 
way  the  reverence  for  things  sacred  and  holy  ;  and 
been  allowed  to  follow,  and  mock  and  hoot  at  an 
in  the  streets  is  far  more  likely  to  become  intem- 
an  if  he  has  been  accustomed  to  regard  him  with 
brother,  and  with  sacred  abhorrence,  as  one  self- 
onized.     So,  on  the  other  hand,  purity  and  chaste- 
tend  to  preserve  'purity  and  chaeteness  of  thought 
ey  repel  licentious  imaginings  ;  they  delight  in  the 
untainted,  and  all  their  tendencies  are  on  the  side 


flue 


191 


CHKISTIAN    COURTESY. 

fgf     SAW  somewhere  the  other  day  a  sentence 
J|[     truest  courtesy  is  the  truest  Christianity." 
™*     saying,  I  take  it,  that  a  Christian  will  be 
teaches  that  the  spirit  of  self-denial,  of  foregoing 
tages  for  the  sake  of  favoring  another,  is  the  root 
the  regenerated  lif e.    Now,  here  is  a  practical  test,  j 
us  in  all  the  scenes  of  our  intercourse  with  our 
what  manner  of  spirit  we  are  of.     If  we  are  truly- 
— courteous  and  polite,  we  are  serving  Christ, 
and  exhibiting  his  spirit.     If  in  the  collisions  of 
through  the  day  we  are  more  careful  to  favor  01 
the  best,  to  be  served  first,  to  gratify  our  own 
than  to  gratify  and  serve  others,  I  care  not  what 
or  what  professions  we  make,  or  what  religious  exeii 
in,  the  spirit  of  the  Master  is  not  in  us. — Anonyt 


man  can  possibly  improve  in  any  company, 
not  respect  enough  to  be  under  some  d< 
Lord  Chesterfield. 


TDEOPLE  seldom  improve  when  they  have  no 
themselves  to  copy  after.— OWver  Goldsmith.l 

190 


THE    MORALITY    OF  HANKERS. 

Horace  J/u/i/t. 

BANNERS  easily  and  rapidly  mature  into  morals.  As  child- 
hood advances  to  manhood,  the  transition  from  bad  manners 
to  bad  morals  is  almost  imperceptible.  Vulgar  and  obscene 
objects  before  the  mind,  engender  impure  images  in  the  imagination 
and  make  unlawful  desires  prurient.  From  the  prevalent  state  of 
the  mind,  actions  proceed  as  water  rises  from  a  fountain.  Hence 
what  was  originally  only  a  word  or  phrase  becomes  a  thought,  is 
meretriciously  embellished  by  the  imagination,  is  inflamed  into  a 
vicious  desire,  gains  strength  and  boldness  by  always  being  welcome, 
until  at  last,  under  some  urgent  temptation,  it  dares,  for  once,  to  put 
on  the  visible  form  of  action ;  it  is  then  ventured  upon  again  and 
again,  more  frequently  and  less  warily,  until  repetition  forges  the 
chains  of  habit ;  and  then  language,  imagination,  desire  and  habit 
bmd  their  victim  to  the  prison  house  of  sin.  In  this  way  profane 
language  wears  away  the  reverence  for  things  sacred  and  holy  ;  and 
a  child  who  has  been  allowed  to  follow,  and  mock  and  hoot  at  an 
intemperate  man  in  the  streets  is  far  more  likely  to  become  intem- 
perate himself  than  if  he  has  been  accustomed  to  regard  him  with 
pity,  as  a  fallen  brother,  and  with  sacred  abhorrence,  as  one  self- 
brutified  or  demonized.  So,  on  the  other  hand,  purity  and  chaste- 
ness  of  language  tend  to  preserve  purity  and  chasteness  of  thought 
and  of  taste ;  they  repel  licentious  imaginings ;  they  delight  in  the 
unsullied  and  the  untainted,  and  all  their  tendencies  are  on  the  side 
of  virtue. 

191 


THE    WITCHERY    OF    MANNER 

LMOST  every  man  can  recall  scores  of  cases  within  his  knowl- 
edge where  pleasing  manners  have  made  the  fortunes  of 
lawyers,  doctors,  divines,  merchants,  and,  in  short,  men  in 
every  walk  of  life.  Raleigh  flung  down  his  laced  coat  into  the  mud 
for  Elizabeth  to  walk  on,  and  got  for  his  reward  a  proud  queen's 
favor.  The  politician  who  has  this  advantage  easily  distances  all 
rival  candidates,  for  every  voter  he  speaks  with  becomes  instantly 
his  friend.  The  very  tones  in  which  he  asks  for  a  pinch  of  snuff  are 
often  more  potent  than  the  logic  of  a  Webster  or  a  Clay.  Polished 
manners  have  often  made  a  scoundrel  successful,  while  the  best  of 
men,  by  their  hardness  and  coldness,  have  done  themselves  incalcula- 
ble injury ;  the  shell  being  so  rough  that  the  world  could  not  believe 
there  was  a  precious  kernel  within.  Civility  is  to  a  man  what 
beauty  is  to  a  woman.  It  creates  an  instantaneous  impression  in  his 
behalf,  while  the  opposite  quality  excites  as  quick  a  prejudice  against 
him.  It  is  a  real  ornament,  the  most  beautiful  dress  that  man  or 
woman  can  wear,  and  worth  more  as  a  means  of  winning  favor  than 
the  finest  clothes  and  jewels  ever  worn.  The  gruffest  man  loves  to 
be  appreciated ;  and  it  is  oftener  the  sweet  smile  of  a  woman,  which 
we  think  intended  for  us  alone,  than  a  pair  of  Juno-like  eyes,  or 
"  lips  that  seem  on  roses  fed,"  that  bewitches  our  heart,  and  lays  us 
low  at  the  feet  of  her  whom  we  afterward  marry. — Anonymous. 


men  are  moulded  out  of  faults. — Shakespeare. 
192 


A   SISTER'S  SYMPATHY — Taking  out  the  Thorn. 


CULTIVATE    PATIENCE. 

patient  with  your  friends.  They  are  neither  omniscient  nor 
omnipotent.  They  can  not  see  your  heart,  and  may  misunder- 
stand  you.  They  do  not  know  what  is  best  for  you,  and  may 
select  what  is  worst.  Their  arms  are  short,  and  they  may  not  be 
able  to  reach  what  you  ask.  What  if  also  they  lack  purity  of  pur- 
pose of  tenacity  of  affection ;  do  not  you  also  lack  these  graces  ? 
Patience  is  your  refuge.  Endure,  and  in  enduring  conquer  them, 
and  if  not  them,  then  at  least  yourself.  Above  all,  be  patient  with 
your  beloved.  Love  is  the  best  thing  on  the  earth,  but  it  is  to  be 
handled  tenderly,  and  impatience  is  a  nurse  that  kills  it. 

Be  patient  with  your  pains  and  cares.  We  know  it  is  easy  to 
say  and  hard  to  do.  But,  dear  child,  you  must  be  patient.  These 
things  are  killed  by  enduring  them,  and  made  strong  to  bite  and 
sting  by  feeding  them  with  your  frets  and  fears.  There  is  no  pain 
or  care  that  can  last  long.  None  of  them  shall  enter  the  city  of 
God.  A  little  while  and  you  shall  leave  behind  you  the  whole  troop 
of  howling  troubles,  and  forget  in  your  first  sweet  hour  of  rest  that 
such  things  were  on  earth. — Anonymous. 


HE  greater  the  difficulty,  the  more  the  glory  in  surmounting 
i    it.      Skillful  pilots  gain  their  reputation  from  storms  and 
tempests. — Anonymous. 


BEWAEK  the  fury  of  a  patient  man. — Dryden,. 
M  193 


A    WOMAN'S    CAEES. 

T.  De  Witt  Talmage. 

reason  I  have  preached  ten  sermons  to  men  and  none  to 
women,  is  that  the  women  are  better  than  men.  I  do  not 
say  tliis  out  of  compliment  or  in  gallantry ;  although  when 
women  are  bad  they  are  dreadful.  Statistics  prove  this.  They  have 
fewer  temptations,  are  naturally  reverential  and  loving,  and  it  is 
easier  for  them  to  become  Christians.  "  They  are  the  majority  in 
Church  on  earth,  and  I  suppose  they  will  be  three-fourths  of  the 
population  in  Heaven."  In  a  beautiful  homestead  in  Bethany,  a 
widow  was  left  to  take  charge  of  the  premises.  The  pet  of  the 
house  was  Mary,  a  younger  sister,  who,  with  a  book  under  her  arm, 
has  no  appearance  of  anxiety  or  perturbation.  Christ  and  several  of 
his  friends  arrived  at  the  house.  They  did  not  keep  him  waiting  till 
they  adjusted  their  dress,  and  after  two  or  three  knockings,  hasten  to 
the  door  and  say,  "  Why !  is  that  you  ? "  No.  They  were  ladies,  and 
always  presentable,  though  they  might  not  have  on  their  best.  If 
we  always  had  on  our  best,  onr  best  would  not  be  worth  putting  on. 
They  threw  open  the  door  and  greeted  Christ  with  "  Good  morning. 
Be  seated."  Martha  went  off  to  the  kitchen  ;  while  Mary,  believing 
in  division  of  labor,  said,  "Martha,  you  go  and  cook,  and  I'll  be 
good."  Something  went  wrong  in  the  kitchen.  Perhaps  the  fire 
wouldn't  burn,  or  the  bread  wouldn't  bake,  or  Martha  scalded  her 
hand.  At  any  rate  she  lost  her  patience  ;  and  with  besweated  brow, 
and  possibly  with  pitcher  in  one  hand  and  the  tongs  in  the  other, 
rushed  into  the  presence  of  Christ,  saying,  "  Lord,  doat  thou  not  care 
that  my  sister  has  left  me  to  serve  alone  ? " 

194 


WOMAN. 

But  Christ  scolded  not  a  word.  He  seemed  to  say,  "  My  dear 
woman,  don't  worry.  Let  the  dinner  go.  Sit  down  on  the  ottoman 
beside  Mary,  your  humble  sister."  When  a  man  comes  home  from 
business  and  sees  his  wife  worn  out,  he  thinks  she  ought  to  have 
been  in  Wall  street,  and  then  she  would  have  something  to  worry 
her.  He  does  not  know  that  she  conducts  a  university,  a  clothing 
establishment,  a  restaurant,  a  laundry  and  a  library;  while  she  is 
health  officer,  police  and  president  of  her  residence. 

They  have  to  contend  with  severe  economy.  Ninety-nine  out  of 
a  hundred  are  subjected  to  it.  x  If  a  man  smokes  very  expensive 
cigars  and  eats  costly  dinners  in  New  York,  he  is  exceedingly  desir- 
ous of  making  five  dollars  do  the  work  of  seven  at  home.  The  wife 
is  banker  in  the  household  ;  she  is  president,  cashier,  teller  and  dis- 
count clerk  ;  and  there  is  a  panic  every  few  weeks.  This  severe 
discipline  will  make  heaven  very  attractive  to  you. 


>VE  was  made  of  a  rib  out  of  the  side  of  Adam, — not  made  out 
of  his  head  to  top  him,  nor  out  of  his  feet  to  be  trampled 
npon  by  him,  but  out  of  his  side  to  be  equal  with  him,  under 
his  arm  to  be  protected,  and  near  his  heart  to  be  beloved. 

Matthew  Hen/ry. 


t    WOMAN !  in  our  hours  of  ease, 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please, 
And  variable  as  the  shade 
By  the  light  of  quivering  aspen  made ; 
When  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow, 

A.  ministering  angel  thou  1 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 
195 


TELL    YOUR    WIFE. 

fsljF  you  are  in  any  trouble  or  quandary,  tell  your  wife — that  is  if 
3|[  you  have  one — all  about  it  at  once.  Ten  to  one  her  invention 
**®  will  solve  your  difficulty  sooner  than  all  your  logic.  The  wit 
of  woman  has  been  praised,  but  her  instincts  are  quicker  and  keener 
than  her  reason.  Counsel  with  your  wife,  or  mother  or  sister,  and 
be  assured,  light  will  flash  upon  your  darkness.  Women  are  too 
commonly  adjudged  as  verdant  in  all  but  purely  womanish  affairs. 
No  philosophical  students  of  the  sex  thus  judge  them.  Their  intui- 
tions, or  insights,  are  the  most  subtle.  In  counseling  a  man  to  tell 
his  wife,  we  would  go  farther,  and  advise  him  to  keep  none  of  hit 
affairs  a  secret  from  her.  Many  a  home  has  been  happily  saved,  ami 
many  a  fortune  retrieved,  by  a  man's  full  confidence  in  his  "  better- 
half."  Woman  is  far  more  a  seer  and  prophet  than  man,  if  she  be 
given  a  fair  chance.  As  a  general  rule,  wives  confide  the  minutest 
of  their  plans  and  thoughts  to  their  husbands,  having  no  involve- 
ments to  screen  from  them.  Why  not  reciprocate,  if  but  for  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  confidence  with  confidence?  We  are  certain 
that  no  man  succeeds  so  well  in  the  world  as  he  who,  taking  a  part- 
ner for  life,  makes  her  the  partner  of  his  purposes  and  hopes. 
What  is  wrong  of  his  impulse  or  judgment,  she  will  check  and  set 
right  with  her  almost  universally  right  instincts.  "  Help-meet "  was 
no  insignificant  title  as  applied  to  man's  companion.  She  is  a  help- 
meet to  him  in  every  darkness,  difficulty  and  sorrow  of  life.  And 
what  she  most  craves  and  most  deserves  is  confidence — without 
which  love  is  never  free  from  a  shadow. — Pacific  Rural  Press. 

196 


HOSPITALITY. 

Oliver  Goldsmith. 
)LEST  be  that  spot  where  cheerful  guests  retire 

To  pause  from  toil,  and  trim  their  evening  fire ; 

Blest  that  abode,  where  want  and  pain  repair, 
And  every  stranger  finds  a  ready  chair  : 
Blest  be  those  feasts  with  simple  plenty  crown'd, 
Where  all  the  ruddy  family  around 
Laugh  at  the  jest  or  pranks,  that  never  fail, 
Or  sigh  with  pity  at  some  mournful  tale, 
Or  press  the  bashful  stranger  to  his  food, 
And  learn  the  luxury  of  doing  good. 


TRUE  HOSPITALITY. 

Sir  Arthur  Helps. 

PERFECT  host  is  as  rare  a  being  as  a  great  poet,  and  for 
much  the  same  reason,  namely,  that  to  be  a  perfect  host  re- 
quires as  rare  a  combination  of  qualities  as  those  which  are 
needed  to  produce  a  great  poet.  He  should  be  like  that  lord  in 
waiting  of  whom  Charles  II.  said,  that  he  was  "  never  in  the  way, 
and  never  out  of  the  way."  He  should  never  degenerate  into  a 
showman,  for  there  is  nothing  of  which  most  people  are  so  soon 
weary  as  of  being  shown  things,  especially  if  they  are  called  upon  to 
admire  them.  He,  the  perfect  host,  should  always  recollect  that  he 

197 


TRUE    HOSPITALITY. 

la  in  his  own  house,  and  that  his  guests  are  not  in  theirs,  conse- 
quently those  local  arrangements  which  are  familiar  to  him  should 
be  rendered  familiar  to  them.  His  aim  should  be  to  make  his  house 
a  home  for  his  guests,  with  all  the  advantage  of  novelty.  If  he 
entertains  many  guests,  he  should  know  enough  about  them  to  be 
sure  that  he  has  invited  those  who  will  live  amicably  together,  and 
will  enjoy  each  other's  society.  He  should  show  no  favoritism,  if 
possible,  and  if  he  is  a  man  who  must  indulge  in  favoritism,  it 
should  be  to  those  of  his  guests  who  are  more  obscure  than  the 
others.  He  should  be  judiciously  despotic  as  regards  all  proposals 
for  pleasure,  for  there  will  be  many  that  are  diverse,  and  much  time 
will  be  wasted  if  he  does  not  take  upon  himself  the  labor  and 
responsibility  of  decision.  He  should  have  nmch  regard  to  the  com- 
ings and  goings  of  his  guests,  so  as  to  provide  for  their  adit  and  exit 
every  convenience.  Now  I  am  going  to  insist  on  what  I  think  to  be 
a  very  great  point.  He  should  aim  at  causing  that  his  guests  should 
hereafter  become  friends,  if  they  are  not  so  at  present,  so  that  they 
might,  in  future  days,  trace  back  the  beginning  of  their  friendship 
to  their  having  met  together  at  his  house.  He,  the  perfect  host, 
must  have  the  art  to  lead  conversation  without  absorbing  it  himself, 
so  that  he  may  develope  the  best  qualities  of  his  guests.  His  expense 
in  entertainment  should  not  be  devoted  to  what  is  luxurious,  but  to 
what  is  ennobling  and  comfortable.  The  first  of  all  things  is  that 
he  should  be  an  affectionate,  indeed,  a  loving  host,  so  that  every  one 
of  his  guests  should  feel  that  he  is  really  welcome.  He  should  press 
them  to  stay,  but  should  be  careful  that  this  pressing  does  not  inter 
fere  with  their  convenience,  so  that  they  stay  merely  to  oblige  him, 
and  not  to  please  themselves.  In  considering  who  should  be  his 
guests,  he  should  always  have  a  thought  as  to  those  to  whom  he 
would  render  most  service  by  having  them  as  his  guests,  his  poorer 
brethren,  his  more  sickly  brethren.  Those  who  he  feels  would  gain 

198 


THE    KDLE    OF    HOSPITALITY. 


most  advantage  by  being  his  guests,  should  have  the  first  place  in 
his  invitations,  and  for  his  considerateness  he  will  be  amply  rewarded 
by  the  benefits  he  will  have  conferred. 


THE    KULE    OF    HOSPITALITY. 

Wm.  M.  F.  Hound. 

hospitality  is  a  thing  that  touches  the  heart  and  never 
goes  beyond  the  circle  of  generous  impulses.  Entertain- 
ment with  the  truly  hospitable  man  means  more  than  the 
mere  feeding  of  the  body ;  it  means  an  interchange  of  soul  gifts. 
Still  it  should  have  its  laws  as  all  things  good  must  have  laws  to 
govern  them. 

The  obligation  to  be  hospitable  is  a  sacred  one,  emphasized  by 
every  moral  code  known  to  the  world,  and  a  practical  outcome  of 
the  second  great  commandment. 

There  should  never  be  a  guest  in  the  house  whose  presence 
requires  any  considerable  change  in  the  domestic  economy. 

However  much  the  circumstances  of  business  or  mutual  interests 
may  demand  in  entertaining  a  stranger,  he  should  never  be  taken 
into  the  family  circle  unless  he  is  known  to  be  wholly  worthy  of  a 
place  in  that  scmctum  scmctorum  of  social  life ;  but  when  once  a 
man  is  admitted  to  the  home  fireside  he  should  be  treated  as  if  the 
place  had  been  his  always. 

The  fact  of  an  invitation  gives  neither  host  nor  guest  the  right  to 
be  master  of  the  other's  time,  and  does  not  require  even  a  tern 
porary  sacrifice  of  one's  entire  individuality  or  pursuits. 

A  man  should  never  be  so  much  himself  as  when  he  entertain*  8 
friend. 

199 


THE    RULE    OF    HOSPITALITY. 

To  stay  at  a  friend's  house  beyond  the  time  for  which  one  is 
invited  is  to  perpetrate  a  social  robbery. 

To  abide  uninvited  in  a  friend's  home  is  as  much  a  misdemeanor 
as  borrowing  his  coat  without  his  permission.  It  is  debasing  the 
coin  of  friendship  to  mere  dross  when  a  man  attempts  to  make  it 
pay  his  hotel  bills. 

The  fact  of  two  men  having  the  same  occupation  and  interests  in 
life  gives  to  neither  a  social  right  to  the  other's  bed  and  board.  A 
traveling  minister  has  no  more  right  to  go  uninvited  to  a  fellow- 
preacher's  house  than  a  traveling  shopkeeper  or  shoemaker  has  to  go 
uninvited  to  the  house  of  his  fellow-craftsman.  Men  are  ordained 
to  the  ministry  as  preachers,  teachers  and  pastors,  and  not  as  private 
hotel-keepers. 

They  who  go  into  the  country  in  summer  as  uninvited  guests  of 
their  farmer  friends  should  be  rated  as  social  brigands  and  treated 
accordingly. 

These  few  social  maxims  are  by  no  means  to  be  taken  as  a  com- 
plete code  of  laws.  Others  quite  as  important  wi/1  spring  up  out  of 
the  personal  experience  of  every  reader  of  this  article,  and  the  jus- 
tice and  equity  of  all  may  be  tested  by  that  infallible  standard  of 
society— the  Golden  Rule.  There  can  be  no  true  hospitality  that  iw 
practice  is  a  violation  of  this  rule;  and  you  may  safely  rest  assured 
that  you  have  given  the  fullest  and  most  perfect  measure  of  enter- 
tainment to  your  neighbor  if  you  have  done  exactly  as  you  would  be 
done  by. 


MAN  should  never  be  ashamed  to  own  that  he  has  been  in 
the  wrong,  which  is  but  saying  in  other  words,  that  he  is 
wiser  to-day  than  he  was  yesterday. — Alexander  Pope. 

200 


DON'T    BE    TOO    SENSITIVE. 

>HERE  are  people — yes,  many  people — always  looking  out 
for  slights.  They  cannot  carry  on  the  daily  intercourse  of 
the  family  without  finding  that  some  offense  is  designed. 
They  are  as  touchy  as  hair-triggers.  If  they  meet  an  acquaintance 
who  happens  to  be  preoccupied  with  business,  they  attribute  his  dis- 
traction in  some  mode  personal  to  themselves,  and  take  umbrage 
accordingly.  They  lay  on  others  the  fruit  of  their  irritability. 
Indigestion  makes  them  see  impertinence  in  every  one  they  come  in 
contact  with.  Innocent  persons,  who  never  dreamed  of  giving 
offense,  are  astonished  to  find  some  unfortunate  word  or  momentary 
taciturnity  mistaken  for  an  insult.  To  say  the  least,  the  habit  is 
unfortunate.  It  is  far  wiser  to  take  the  more  charitable  view  of  our 
fellow-beings,  and  not  suppose  that  a  slight  is  intended  unless  the 
neglect  is  open  and  direct.  After  all,  too,  life  takes  its  hues  in  a 
great  degree  from  the  color  of  our  own  mind.  If  we  are  frank  and 
generous,  the  world  will  treat  us  kindly ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  we  are 
suspicious,  men  learn  to  be  cold  and  cautious  to  us.  Let  a  person 
get  the  reputation  of  being  "touchy,"  and  everybody  is  under 
restraint,  and  in  this  way  the  chances  of  an  imaginary  offense  are 
vastly  increased. — Anonymous. 


THINK  the  first  virtue  is  to  restrain  the  "tongue ;  he  ap- 
proaches nearest  to  the  gods  who  knows  how  to  be  silent,  even 
though  he  is  in  the  right. — Cato. 

201 


ADVICE    TO    A    YOUNG    MAN. 

John  Todd,  D.D 

MAN  who  wills  it  can  go  anywhere  and  do  what  he  deter- 
mines to  do.  We  must  make  ourselves,  or  come  to  nothing. 
We  must  swim  off,  and  not  wait  for  any  one  to  put  cork 
under  us.  I  congratulate  you  on  being  poor,  and  thus  compelled  to 
work ;  it  was  all  that  ever  made  me  what  little  I  am.  Made  vir- 
tute.  Don't  flinch,  flounder,  fall,  nor  fiddle,  but  grapple  like  a  man, 
and  you  will  be  a  man. 


ADVICE    TO    YOUNG    MEN. 

Nook  Porter,  D.D. 

'OTJNG  men,  you  are  the  architects  of  your  own  fortunes. 
Rely  upon  your  own  strength  of  body  and  soul.  Take  for 
your  star  self-reliance,  faith,  honesty,  and  industry.  Inscribe 
on  your  banner,  "  Luck  is  a  fool,  pluck  is  a  hero."  Don't  take  too 
much  advice — keep  at  your  helm  and  steer  your  own  ship,  and 
remember  that  the  great  art  of  commanding  is  to  take  a  fair  share  of 
the  work.  Don't  practice  too  much  humanity.  Think  well  of 
yourself.  Strike  out.  Assume  your  own  position.  Put  potatoes  in 
your  cart,  over  a  rough  road,  and  small  ones  go  to  the  bottom.  Rise 
above  the  envious  and  jealous.  Fire  above  the  mark  you  intend  to 
hit.  Energy,  invincible  determination,  with  a  right  motive,  are  the 
levers  that  move  the  world.  Don't  drink.  Don't  chew.  Don't 
smoke.  Don't  swear.  Don't  deceive.  Don't  read  novels.  Don't 
marry  until  you  can  support  a  wife.  Be  in  earnest.  Be  self-reliant. 

202 


EDUCATION. 

iJc  generous.  Be  civil.  Head  the  papers.  Advertise  your  busi- 
ness. Make  money  and  do  good  with  it.  Love  your  God  and 
fellow  men.  Love  truth  and  virtue,  Love  your  country,  and  obey 
its  laws. 

If  this  advice  be  implicitly  followed  by  the  young  men  of  the 
country  the  millennium  is  near  at  hand. 


EDUCATION. 

H  W-  Beecher. 

>DUCATION  is  the  knowledge  of  how  to  use  the  whole  of  one- 
self. Men  are  often  like  knives  with  many  blades;  they 
know  how  to  open  one,  and  only  one ;  all  the  rest  are  buried 
ii  the  handle,  and  they  are  no  better  than  they  would  have  been  if 
they  had  been  made  with  but  one  blade.  Many  men  use  but  one  or 
two  faculties  out  of  the  score  with  which  they  are  endowed.  A  man 
is  educated  who  knows  how  to  make  a  tool  of  every  faculty — how  to 
open  it,  how  to  keep  it  sharp,  and  how  to  apply  it  to  all  practical 
purposes. 


[[DEAS  go  booming  through  the  world  louder  than  cannon. 
Thoughts  are  mightier  than  armies.     Principles  have  achieved 
*     more  victories  than  horsemen  or  chariots. 

W.  M.  Paxton,  D.D. 


THE  intelligence  of  the  people  is  the  security  of  the  nation. 

Dcvnid  Webster. 
208 


COUNSELS    TO    THE    YOUNG. 

HVER  be  cast  down  by  trifles.     If  a  spider  breaks  his  web 
twenty  times,  twenty  times  will  he  mend  it  again.     Make  up 
your  minds  to  do  a  thing,  and  you  will  do  it.     Fear  not  if 
trouble  comes  upon  you  ;  keep  up  your  spirits,  though  the  day  may 

be  a  dark  one. 

"  Troubles  never  last  forever  ; 
The  darkest  day  will  pass  away." 

If  the  sun  is  going  down,  look  up  to  the  stars ;  if  the  earth  is 
dark,  keep  your  eyes  on  heaven.  With  God's  presence  and  God's 
promise,  a  man  or  child  may  be  cheerful. 

"  Never  despair  when  fog's  in  the  air, 
A  sunshiny  morning  will  come  without  warning  1 " 

Mind  what  you  run  after !  Never  be  content  with  a  bubble  that 
will  burst,  or  a  fire-wood  that  will  end  in  smoke  and  darkness.  But 
that  which  you  can  keep,  and  which  is  worth  keeping. 

"Something  sterling,  that  will  stay 
When  gold  and  silver  fly  away  1 

Fight  hard  against  a  hasty  temper.  Anger  will  come,  but  resist 
it  strongly.  A  spark  may  set  a  house  on  fire.  A.  fit  of  passion  may 
s^ive  you  cause  to  mourn  all  the  days  .of  your  life.  Never  revenge 
an  injury. 

"He  that  revengeth  knoweth  no  rest  ; 
The  meek  possess  a  peaceful  breast  I " 

If  you  have  an  enemy,  act  kindly  to  him,  and  make  him  your 
friend.  You  may  not  win  him  over  at  once,  but  try  again.  Let  one 

204 


COUNSELS     TO    THE 


kindness  be  followed  by  another,  till  you  have  compassed  your  end. 
Uy  little  and  by  little  great  things  are  completed. 

"  Water  falling  day  by  day, 
Wears  the  hardest  rock  away." 

And  so  repeated  kindnesses  will  soften  a  heart  of  stone. 

Whatever  you  do,  do  it  willingly.  A  boy  that  is  whipped  at 
school  never  learns  his  lessons  well.  A  man  that  is  compelled  to 
work,  cares  not  how  badly  it  is  performed. 

Evil  thoughts  are  worse  enemies  than  lions  and  tigers,  for  we  can 
get  out  of  the  way  of  wild  beasts.  Keep  your  heads  and  hearts  full 
of  good  thoughts,  that  bad  thoughts  may  not  find  room.  —  Anony- 
mous. 


the  ends  of  life  more  than  its  means ;  watch  ever  for 
the  soul  of  good  in  things  evil,  and  the  soul  of  truth  in 
things  false,  and  beside  the  richer  influence  that  will  flow 

O  7 

out  from  your  life  on  all  to  whom  you  minister,  you  will  do  some 
thing  to  help  the  solution  of  that  unsolved  problem  of  the  human 
mind  and  heart,  the  reconciliation  of  hearty  tolerance  with  strong 
positive  belief.  Phillips  Brooks. 


No  man  is  so  insignificant  as  to  be  sure  his  example  can  do  no 

Lord  Clarendon. 


THERE  never  was  a  great  man,  unless  through  divine  inspiration. 

Cicero. 

205 


TO    YOUNG    MEN. 

"  Sowing  Wild  Oats,"  or  What  shall  the  Harvest  be  ? 

D.  L.  Moody. 

a  man  sows  in  the' natural  world  he  expects  to  reap. 
There  is  not  a  farmer  who  goes  out  to  sow,  but  expects 
a  harvest.  Another  thing — they  all  expect  to  reap  more 
than  they  sow.  And  they  expect  to  reap  the  same  as  they  sow.  If 
they  sow  wheat,  they  expect  to  reap  wheat.  If  they  sow  oats,  they 
won't  expect  to  gather  watermelons.  If  they  plant  an  apple-tree, 
they  don't  look  for  peaches  on  it.  If  they  plant  a  grapevine,  they 
expect  to  find  grapes,  not  pumpkins.  They  will  look  for  just  the 
very  seed  they  sow.  Let  me  say  rigjit  here,  that  ignorance  of  what 
they  sowed  will  make  no  difference  in  the  reaping.  It  would  not  do 
for  a  man  to  say,  "  I  didn't  know  but  what  it  was  wheat  I  was  sow- 
ing, when  I  sowed  tares."  That  makes  no  difference.  If  I  go  out 
and  sow  tares,  thinking  that  it  is  wheat,  I've  got  to  gather  tares  all 
the  same.  That  is  a  universal  law.  If  a  man  learns  the  carpenter's 
trade,  he  don't  expect  to  be  a  watchmaker,  he  expects  to  be  a  car- 
penter. The  man  who  goes  to  college  and  studies  hard,  expects  to 
reap  for  those  long  years  of  toil  and  labor.  It  is  the  same  in  the 
spiritual  world.  Whatsoever  a  man  or  nation  sows,  he  and  they  must 
reap.  The  reaping  time  will  come.  Men  may  think  God  is  winking 
at  sin  now-a-days,  and  isn't  going  to  punish  sin,  because  he  does  not 
execute  his  judgments  speedily,  but  be  not  deceived,  God  is  not 
mocked,  and  whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that  shall  he  reap.  I 
tremble  for  these  young  men  who  laugh  in  a  scoffing  way  and  say, 
"  I  am  sowing  my  wild  oats."  You  have  got  to  reap  them.  There 

206 


TO    YOUNG    MEN. 

are  some  before  me  now  reaping  them,  who  only  a  few  years  ago 
were  scoffing  in  the  same  way.  The  rich  man  who  fared  luxuriously, 
while  the  poor  man  sat  at  his  gate,  and  the  dogs  came  and  licked 
his  sores,  the  reaping  time  has  come  for  him  now.  He  would 
gladly  change  places  with  that  beggar  now. 

Yes,  there  will  be  a  change  by  and  by.  Men  may  go  on  scoff- 
ing and  making  light  of  the  Bible  but  they  will  find  it  to  be  true  by 
and  by.  I  think  there  is  one  passage  that  you  will  admit  is  true. 
You  very  often  see  it  in  the  daily  papers,  that  "  Murder  will  out " 
when  some  terrible  crime  that  has  been  covered  up  for  years  has 
come  to  light.  And  there  is  one  passage  I  would  like  to  get  every 
one  to  remember.  "  Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out."  There 
are  a  great  many  things  in  this  .world  we  are  not  sure  of,  but  this  we 
can  always  bs  sure  of,  that  our  sins  will  find  us  out.  I  don't  care 
how  deep  you  dig  the  grave  in  which  you  try  to  bury  them.  Look 
at  those  sons  of  Jacob.  They  thought  they  had  covered  up  their 
sin,  and  their  father  never  would  find  out  what  they  had  done  with 
Joseph.  And  the  old  man  mourned  him  for  twenty  long  years. 
But  at  last,  after  all  these  years  had  gone,  away  down  in  Egypt,  there 
Joseph  stood  before  them.  How  they  began  to  tremble.  Oh,  it 
had  found  them  out.  Their  sin  had  overtaken  them.  Young  men, 
you  may  have  committed  some  sin  many  years  ago,  and  you  think 
nothing  is  known  about  it.  Don't  you  flatter  yourself.  God  knows 
all  about  it,  and  be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out.  Your  own  con- 
science may  turn  witness  against  you  by  and  by.  If  you  sow  tares, 
you  will  reap  disappointment,  you  will  reap  despair,  you  will  reap 
death  and  hell.  If  you  sow  to  the  Spirit  you  shall  reap  peace  and 
joy  and  happiness  and  eternal  life.  The  reaping  time  is  coming. 
What  is  the  harvest  going  to  be  ?  If  you  confess  your  sin,  God  will 
have  mercy ;  He  delights  in  mercy. 


ABILITY    AND    OPPORTUNITY. 

'HESE  are  the  conditions  of  success.  Give  a  man  power  and 
a  field  in  which  to  use  it,  and  he  must  accomplish  some- 
thing. He  may  not  do  and  become  all  that  he  desires  and 
dreams  of,  but  his  life  can  not  be  a  failure.  I  never  hear  men  com- 
plaining of  the  want  of  ability.  The  most  unsuccessful  think  that 
they  could  do  great  things  if  they  only  had  the  chance.  Somehow 
or  other  something  or  somebody  has  always  been  in  the  way.  Prov- 
idence has  hedged  them  in  so  that  they  could  not  carry  out  their 
plans.  They  knew  just  how  to  get  rich,  but  they  lacked  opportu- 
nity. 

Sit  down  by  one  who  thus  complains  and  ask  him  to  tell  you  the 
story  of  his  life.  Before  he  gets  half  through  he  will  give  you 
occasion  to  ask  him,  "  Why  didn't  you  do  so  at  that  time  ?  Why 
didn't  you  stick  to  that  piece  of  land  and  improve  it,  or  to  that  busi- 
ness and  develope  it  ?  Is  not  the  present  owner  of  that  property 
rich?  Is  not  the  man  who  took  up  the  business  you  abandoned 
successful  ?"  He  will  probably  reply  :  "  Yes,  that  was  an  opportu- 
nity ;  but  I  did  not  think  so  then.  I  saw  it  when  it  was  too  late." 
In  telling  his  story  he  will  probably  say,  of  his  own  accord,  half  a 
dozen  timefc.  "If  I  had  known  how  things  were  going  to  turn  I 
might  have  done  as  well  as  Mr.  A.  That  farm  of  his  was  offered  to 
me.  I  knew  that  it  was  a  good  one,  and  cheap,  but  I  knew  that  it 
would  require  a  great  deal  of  hard  work  to  get  it  cleared  and  fenced, 
to  plant  trees,  vines,  etc.,  and  to  secure  water  for  irrigation.  I  did 
not  like  to  undertake  it.  I  am  sorry  now  that  I  didn't.  It  was  one 
of  my  opportunities." 

208 


ABILITY    AND    OPPORTUNITY. 

The  truth  is,  God  gives  to  all  of  us  ability  and  opportunities 
enough  to  enable  ns  to  be  moderately  successful.  If  we  fail,  in 
ninety-five  cases  out  of  a  hundred  it  is  our  own  fault.  "We  neglect 
to  improve  the  talents  with  which  our  Creator  endowed  us,  or  we 
failed  to  enter  the  door  that  he  opened  for  us.  A  man  can  not  ex- 
pect that  his  whole  life  shall  be  made  up  of  opportunities,  that  they 
will  meet  him  at  regular  intervals  as  he  goes  on,  like  milestones  by 
the  roadside.  Usually  he  has  one  or  two,  and  if  he  neglects  them 
he  is  like  a  man  who  takes  the  wrong  road  where  several  meet.  The 
further  he  goes  the  worse  he  fares. 

A  man's  opportunity  usually  has  some  relation  to  his  ability.  It 
is  an  opening  for  a  man  of  his  talents  and  means.  It  is  an  opening 
for  him  to  use  what  he  has,  faithfully  and  to  the  utmost.  It  requires 
toil,  self-denial  and  faith.  If  he  says,  "  I  want  a  better  opportunity 
than  that.  I  am  worthy  of  a  higher  position  than  it  offers  f  or  if 
he  says,  "I  won't  work  as  hard  and  economize  as  closely  as  that 
opportunity  demands,"  he  may,  in  after  years,  see  the  folly  of  his 
pride  and  indolence. 

There  are  young  men  all  over  the  land  who  want  to  get  rich,  and 
yet  they  scorn  such  opportunities  as  A.  T.  Stewart  and  Commodore 
Vanderbilt  improved.  They  want  to  begin,  not  as  those  men  did, 
at  the  bottom  of  the  ladder,  but  half  way  up.  They  want  somebody 
to  give  them  a  lift,  or  carry  them  up  in  a  balloon,  so  that  they  can 
avoid  the  early  and  arduous  struggles  of  the  majority  of  those  who 
have  been  successful.  No  wonder  that  such  men  fail,  and  then 
complain  of  Providence.  Grumbling  is  usually  a  miserable  expedi- 
ent that  people  resort  to  to  drown  the  reproaches  of  conscience. 
They  know  that  they  have  been  foolish,  but  they  try  to  persuade 
themselves  that  they  have  been  unfortunate. — Herald  and  Pres 
byter. 


HAPPINESS. 

Aleaander  Pop*. 

fRDEK  is  heaven's  first  law ;  and  this  confessed, 
Some  are,  and  must  be,  greater  than  the  rest ; 
More  rich,  more  wise,  but  who  infers  from  hence, 
That  such  are  happier,  shocks  all  common  sense. 
Heaven  to  mankind,  impartial,  we  confess, 
If  all  are  equal  in  their  happiness : 
But  mutual  wants  this  happiness  increase, 
All  nature's  difference  keeps  all  nature's  peace. 
Condition,  circumstance,  is  not  the  thing ; 
Bliss  is  the  same  in  subject  or  in  king, 
In  who  obtains  defense,  or  who  defend, 
In  him  who  is,  or  him  who  finds  a  friend  ; 
Heaven  breathes  through  every  member  of  the  whole, 
One  common  blessing,  as  one  common  soul. 


DOMESTIC    HAPPINESS. 

Wm.  Oourpsr. 

8OMESTIC  happiness  !  thou  only  bliss 
Of  paradise,  that  has  survived  the  fall ! 
Though  few  now  taste  thee,  unimpair'd  and  free, 
Or,  tasting,  long  enjoy  thee  ;  too  infirm, 
Or  too  incautious  to  preserve  thy  sweets 
Unmixed  with  drops  of  bitter. 

810 


FAMILY    LIFE    A    TEST    OF    PIETY. 

is  in  the  family  life  that  a  man's  piety  gets  tested.  •  Let  the 
husband  be  cross  and  surly,  giving  a  snap  here  and  a  cuff 
there,  and  see  how  out  of  sorts  everything  gets  I  The  wife 
grows  cold  and  unamiable,  too.  Both  are  tuned  on  one  key.  They 
vibrate  in  unison,  giving  tone  for  tone,  rising  in  harmony  or  discord 
together.  The  children  grow  up  saucy,  and  savage  as  young  bears. 
The  father  becomes  callous,  peevish,  hard,  a  kind  of  two-legged 
brute  with  clothes  on.  The  wife  bristles  in  self-defense.  They  de- 
velop an  unnatural  growth  and  sharpness  of  teeth ;  and  the  house  is 
haunted  by  ugliness  and  domestic  brawls. 

Is  that  what  God  meant  the  family  to  be — He  who  made  it  a 
place  for  love  to  build  her  nest  in,  and  where  kindness  and  sweet 
courtesy  might  come  to  their  finest  manifestations  ?  The  divine  idea 
can  be  realized.  There  is  sunshine  enough  in  the  world  to  warm 
all.  Why  will  not  men  come  out  of  their  caves  to  enjoy  it  ?  Some 
men  make  it  a  point  to  treat  every  other  man's  wife  well  but  their 
own, — have  smiles  for  all  but  their  kindred.  Strange,  pitiable  pic- 
ture of  human  weakness,  when  those  we  love  best  are  treated  worst ; 
when  courtesy  is  shown  to  all  save  our  friends !  If  one  must  be  rude 
to  any,  let  it  be  to  some  one  he  does  not  love — not  to  wife,  sister, 
brother  or  parent. 

Let  one  of  our  loved  ones  be  taken  away,  and  memory  recalls  a 
thousand  sayings  to  regret.  Death  quickens  recollection  painfully. 
The  grave  can  not  hide  the  white  faces  of  those  who  sleep.  The 
coffin  and  the  green  mound  are  cruel  magnets.  They  draw  us 

211 


AIM    AND    OBJECT    IN    LIFB. 

farther  than  we  would  go.  They  force  us  to  remember.  A  man 
never  sees  so  far  into  human  life  as  when  he  looks  over  a  wife's  or 
mother's  grave.  His  eyes  get  wondrous  clear  then,  and  he  sees  as 
never  before  what  it  is  to  love  and  be  loved ;  what  it  is  to  injure  the 
feelings  of  the  loved. — Golden  Rule. 


AIM    AND    OBJECT    IN    LIFE. 

Rev.    G.  H.  Spurgeon. 

tTHAT  we  could  wake  men  up  to  exercise  the  faculty  of 
thinking,  and  then  to  direct,  to  regulate,  and  to  control  their 
thoughts !  But  thinking  is  an  occupation  that  a  great  many 
persons  altogether  dislike.  They  are  frivolous.  We  cannot  get 
them  to  think  about  anything.  Many  minds  never  get  on  the 
wing  at  all.  Not  a  few  men  work  so  hard  with  their  hands,  and 
suffer  such  fatigue  from  bodily  labor,  that  they  are  scarcely  able  to 
think  much ;  while  there  are  others  who  dissipate  their  time  and 
consume  their  lives  in  idleness,  till  they  are  utterly  disqualified  for 
any  vigorous  thought.  They  are  lazy  and  sluggish.  They  have 
the  dry  rot  in  their  very  souls.  Their  brains  do  not  work.  They 
seem  to  live  in  one  everlasting  lethargy  and  day-dream.  O  that 
men  were  wise,  that  they  were  thoughtful!  Ask  many  a  man 
whom  you  meet  with,  "Sir,  what  are  you  living  for?"  he  would, 
perhaps,  tell  you  what  his  trade  or  what  his  profession  might  be ; 
but  if  you  pressed  him  with  the  question,  "  What  is  the  main 
object  of  life  ?"  he  would  not  like  to  say  that  he  was  living  only 
to  enjoy  himself — seeking  his  own  pleasure.  He  would  hardly  like 
to  say  that  he  was  living  to  grasp  and  grab  and  get  a  fortune.  He 
would  hardly  know  how  to  answer  you.  Many  young  men  are  in 
this  condition ;  they  have  not  a  definite  object.  Now,  you  will  not 

212 


SELFISHNESS. 

make  a  good  captain  if  you  do  not  know  the  port  you  are  sailing 
for.  You  will  make  a  poor  life  of  it,  young  man,  if  you  go  out 
as  an  apprentice,  and  then  afterwards  out  as  a  master,  with  no 
definite  aim  and  end.  Say  to  yourself,  "  I  can  only  live  for  two 
things.  I  can  live  for  God,  or  I  can  live  for  the  devil;  which, 
now,  am  I  going  to  do  ?"  Get  your  mind  well  fixed  and  firmly 
resolved  as  to  which  it  shall  be.  I  will  put  it  to  you  as  boldly  and 
badly  as  even  Elijah  did  when  he  said,  "  If  Baal  be  God,  serve 
Him ;  and  if  Jehovah  be  God,  serve  Him."  If  the  world,  if  the 
flesh,  if  the  devil,  be  worth  serving,  go  follow  out  the  career  of  a 
sensualist,  and  say  so.  Let  yourself  know  what  you  are  at ;  but  if 
God  be  worth  serving,  and  your  soul  worth  the  saving,  go  in  for 
that ;  but  do  not  sneak  through  this  world  really  seeking  yourself, 
and  yet  not  having  the  courage  to  say  to  yourself,  "  Self,  you  are 
living  for  yourself."  Do  have  a  definite  and  distinct  object,  or  else 
your  vital  energies  will  be  wasted,  and  your  most  industrious  days 
will  be  recklessly  squandered. 


SELFISHNESS. 

Wm.  Cowper. 

§H,  if  the  selfish  knew  how  much  they  lost, 
What  would  they  not  endeavor,  not  endure, 
To  imitate,  as  far  as  in  them  lay, 
Him  who  his  wisdom  and  his  power  employs 
In  making  others  happy  ? 


•iilp'HOEVER  thinks  of  life  as  something  that  could  be  with- 
out religion  is  yet  in  deadly  ignorance  of  both.  Life 
and  religion  are  one,  or  neither  is  anything. 

Geo.  MacDonald. 
213 


David  Barker. 
the  quarries  should  you  toil, 

Make  your  mark ; 
Do  you  delve  upon  the  soil, 

Make  your  mark ; 
In  whatever  path  you  go, 

In  whatever  place  you  stand, 
Moving  swift  or  moving  slow, 
With  a  firm  and  honest  hand, 
Make  your  mark. 

Should  opponents  hedge  your  way, 

Make  your  mark ; 
Work  by  night  or  work  by  day, 

Make  your  mark  ; 
Struggle  manfully  and  well, 

Let  no  obstacle  oppose  ; 
None,  right-shielded,  ever  fell, 
By  the  weapons  of  his  foes  ; 
Make  your  mark. 

What  though  born  a  peasant's  son, 

Make  your  mark ; 
Good  by  poor  men  can  be  done, 

Make  your  mark ; 
Peasants'  garbs  may  warm  the  cold, 
Peasants'  words  may  calm  a  fear ; 
214 


THE    USES    OF    ADVERSITY. 

Better  far  than  hoarding  gold, 
Is  the  drying  of  a  tear ; 
Make  your  mark. 

Life  is  fleeting  as  a  shade, 

Make  your  mark ; 
Marks  of  some  kind  must  be  made, 

Make  your  mark ; 
Make  it  while  the  arm  is  strong, 
In  the  golden  hours  of  youth  ; 
Never,  never  make  it  wrong, 
Make  it  with  the  stamp  of  truth  ; 
Make  your  mark. 


THE    USES    OF    ADVEESITY. 

Joseph  Addis&n. 

gods  in  bounty  work  up  storms  about  us, 
That  give  mankind  occasion  to  exert 
Their  hidden  strength,  and  throw  out  into  practice 
Virtues  that  shun  the  day,  and  lie  concealed 
In  the  smooth  seasons  and  the  calms  of  life. 


HPHE  good  are  better  made  by  ill : — 
As  odors  crushed,  are  sweeter  still  I 


So/mud  Rogers. 


nPEOUBLES  are  hard  to  take,  though  they  strengthen  the  soul. 
Tonics  are  always  bitter.  T.  De  Witt  Tdlmage. 


215 


FOLLY    OF    FRETTING. 

A.   A.  Lawn. 

persona!  sin  of  fretting  is  almost  as  extensive  as  any 
other  evil.  It  is  not  universal,  but  very  general  It  is 
as  vain  and  useless  a  habit  as  one  can  harbor.  Nothing  so 
warps  man's  nature,  sours  his  disposition,  breaks  up  the  friendly 
relationship  in  the  domestic  circle.  It  is  a  direct  violation  of  the 
law  of  God.  It  is  sinful  in  the  beginning,  in  its  progress,  and 
sinful  continually.  The  divine  direction  is,  "Fret  not  thyself  in 
anywise  to  do  evil."  David's  knowledge  of  human  nature  was  as 
large  as  it  was  exact.  Scolding  is  confined  to  no  age  or  clime. 
Some  bad  streak  in  one's  constitution,  a  little  mishap,  or  a  score  of 
causes,  may  stir  and  stimulate  this  irritable  disposition.  Such  a 
spirit  in  the  family,  in  the  school,  or  church,  may  become  con- 
tagious, and  result  in  great  injury.  It  may  be  quelled  and  con- 
quered. When  we  see  its  manifestation  in  time  to  take  a  second 
thought,  a  determined  silence  is  sure  to  ward  off  the  most  fiery  out- 
burst. It  is  difficult  for  a  quarrel  to  continue  long  without  oppos- 
ing agents.  Nothing  so  surprises  an  angry  person  as  kind  words. 
Let  them  be  few  and  spoken  in  a  loving  manner. 

The  milk  of  human  kindness,  like  oil  on  an  axle,  lightens  the 
load  and  eases  life's  heavy  burdens.  In  the  severe  school  of  hard- 
ship and  adversity — through  which  all  humanity  must  pass — the  law 
of  kindness  is  the  real  antidote.  Overwork  and  anxiety  produce 
irritability.  Domestic  felicity  is  the  oil  of  consolation.  Fault-find- 
ing tends  to  division,  rejection,  and  misery.  True  perennial  happi- 
ness is  the  lot  of  few  mortals  in  this  inconstant  world.  The  effect* 

216 


FOLLY    OF    FKETTLNG. 

of  scolding  are  twofold.  They  give  color  to  one's  own  character,  as 
truly  as  they  do  harm  to  society.  Fretting  becomes  habitual  with 
gome — all  is  unpleasant. 

A  fretful  habit  finds  frequent  opportunities  for  indulgence, 
occasions  literally  multiplying  as  the  habit  increases  in  strength. 
Almost  everybody  displeases  the  fault-finder.  Nothing  seems  to  go 
right  with  the  constant  fretter.  Circumstances  control  and  conquer 
him.  There  is  no  self-poise  in  his  soul — no  controlling  power. 
Fretting  weakens  one's  self-respect.  It  breaks  asunder  the  bond  of 
affections.  It  is  impossible  to  love  an  habitual  fault-finder.  If  a 
scolder  should  be  lo^ed  through  deception  for  a  time,  the  affections 
must,  sooner  or  later,  be  sundered.  We  might  tolerate  a  person 
through  ignorance,  or  for  some  weakness  in  his  constitution,  for  a 
time.  But  a  toleration  differs  materially  from  genuine  friendship. 
A  fretful  disposition  sours  all  the  relations  of  life,  is  a  most  perni- 
cious acquisition,  a  dreadful  inheritance.  Such  a  habit,  too  fre- 
quently indulged,  has  driven  the  best  of  husbands  into  dissipation, 
rendered  the  most  affectionate  wives  miserable,  schools  ungoverna- 
ble, and  made  congregations  noisy  and  disrespectful.  It  would  fill 
the  state  with  rebellion,  and  hell  with  inmates. 

One  fretful  parent  would  instill  poison  into  every  heart  in  the 
domestic  circle.  In  after  years  the  spirit  of  the  early  life  will  reas- 
sert its  claim,  and  will  insensibly  fill  other  families  with  discontent. 
Yice,  like  virtue,  through  all  the  channels  of  influence,  is  handed 
down  from  sire  to  son,  from  mother  to  daughter.  There  is  no  sense, 
no  necessity  for  fretting.  "We  are  to  let  our  moderation  be  made 
known.  There  is  no  kind  of  use,  no  real  benefit  to  come  from  such 
a  course.  It  is  an  injury  to  man,  a  curse  on  society,  and  a  libel  on 
God,  who  has  endowed  us  with  speech.  It  defeats  domestic  and 
school  discipline.  The  great  object  of  genuine  government  is  a  will- 
ing, ready,  hearty  obedience  from  personal  choice. 

217 


NEVER     MIND. 

All  rightf  ol  riders  seek  to  win  the  self-respect,  the  good  will  of 
those  whom  they  are  to  control.  Fretting  fails  to  secure  these  ends. 
This  in-timed  grace  is  founded  in  selfishness.  Love  can  not  be  won 
by  it;  respect  can  not  be  retained.  There  remains  the  love  of  nobil- 
ity in  every  man.  To  this  natural  sense  of  goodness  we  can  not,  in 
kindness,  appeal  in  vain.  Fretting  resorts  to  fear,  appeals  to  brute 
force,  and  in  return  awakens  only  dread  and  dislike.  It  is  an  evil 
force,  that  fosters  the  faults  it  seeks  in  vain  to  correct. 

"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
That  to  be  hated  needs  but  to  be  seen." 


NEVER    MIND 
Casting  all  your  care  upon  him  ;  for  he  careth  for  you."     L  Peter, 

HAT'S  the  use  of  always  fretting 

At  the  trials  we  shall  find 
Ever  strewn  along  our  pathway  ? 
Travel  on,  and  never  mind. 

Travel  onward,  working,  hoping, 

Cast  no  lingering  look  behind 
At  the  trials  once  encountered ; 

Look  ahead,  and  never  mind. 

"What  is  past,  is  past  forever ; 

Let  all  the  fretting  be  resigned ; 
It  will  never  help  the  matter — 

Do  your  best,  and  never  mind. 
218 


LITTLE    TEOUBLB8. 


And  if  those  who  might  befriend  you, 

Whom  the  ties  of  nature  bind, 
Should  refuse  to  do  their  duty, 

Look  to  heaven,  and  never  mind. 

Friendly  words  are  often  spoken 

When  the  feelings  are  unkind  ; 
Take  them  for  their  real  value, 

Pass  them  on,  and  never  mind. 

Fate  may  threaten,  clouds  may  lower, 

Enemies  may  be  combined  ; 
If  your  trust  in  God  is  steadfast, 

He  will  help  you, — never  mind. — Anom/mouo 


LITTLE    TROUBLES. 

Mrt.  Amelia  S,  Barr. 

LTHOUGH  general  sympathy  overlooks  small  miseries,  indi- 
viduals find  it  worth  their  while  to  take  them  into  account ; 
for  the  whole  history  of  some  people  is  but  a  long  record  of 
trifling  vexations  and  sufferings:  trifling  when  taken  singly,  but 
overwhelming  when  taken  in  the  mass. 

It  may  not  seem  a  great  thing  to  have  a  constantly  nagging  com- 
panion, or  boots  that  always  hurt  your  corns,  or  linen  that  is  never 
properly  starched ;  or  to  have  to  read  crossed  letters,  or  go  to  stupid 
parties,  or  consult  books  without  indexes, — but  to  the  sufferer  they 
are  very  tangible  oppressions,  and,  in  our  short  space  of  working 
life,  not  to  be  made  light  of. 

Of  course,  if  we  were  all  cast  in  heroic  moulc1*  we  should  despise 

219 


LITTLB    TROUBLES. 

such  petty  aggravations;  but  the  world  does  not  turn  on  heroic 
principles ;  it  is  useless  to  tell  a  fretful,  worried  man  that  his  trials 
are  "dbsv/rd  /"  and  do  not  think  you  have  effected  a  cure  when  you 
have  let  that  drop  of  boiling  oil  fall  upon  his  wounds.  "  Absurd  ?" 
His  own  common  sense  has  already  told  him  so,  and  that  is  the  very 
thing  that  aggravates  his  annoyance. 

It  is  equally  useless  to  remind  such  sufferers  "  that  if  they  lived 
with  a  proper  estimate  of  the  present  and  future  before  them,  they 
could  bear  these  little  trials  with  a  calm  and  decent  philosophy." 
Perhaps  so !  but  I  have  seen  these  same  philosophers  strongly  moved 
by  little  disappointments  in  meals,  or  weather,  that  affected  them- 
selves ;  nay,  even  by  such  trifling  causes  as  cold  shaving-water,  or  a 
want  of  buttons.  Most  platitudes  of  this  kind  are  affectations  ;  and 
the  men  who  pretend  to  despise  little  troubles  are  the  very  men  who 
exaggerate  them. 

There  are  indeed,  some  characters  who  have  the  cheerfulness  of 
tine  summer  mornings;  everything  about  them  laughs  and  sings, 
even  their  tears  have  the  lustre  of  a  fresh  shower.  But  there  are 
other  natures  equally  fine  in  a  contrary  direction,  whose  excessive 
sensibility  makes  them  the  instrument  upon  which  every  circum- 
stance plays. 

I  am  going  now  to  make  a  confession  of  one  of  these  little 
troubles — one  which  will  doubtless  seem  puerile  to  many,  but  which 
I  know  tens  of  thousands  suffer  keenly  from — I  mean  the  tyranny  of 
the  atmosphere.  When  a  foggy  day  or  a  spiteful  east  wind  attacks 
us,  or  when  there  is  no  blue  sky  to  speak  to  us  of  heaven,  we  are 
depressed,  and  full  of  inexpressible  languors.  Our  work  falls  from 
our  hands,  our  inability  irritates  us,  our  whole  human  nature  suffers 
with  the  physical  world. 

"  What  nonsense !  Man  as  an  immortal  soul  ought  to  float  above 
this  terrestrial  atmosphere."  Ah,  yes!  but  though  we  envy  the 

220 


LITTLE    TROUBLES. 

etrength  of  such  natures  as  are  always  equable,  we  cannot  imitate 
them.  And  we  do  not  want  them  to  tell  us  that  such  depressions 
are  "  imaginary,"  and  "  ought  to  be  resisted ; "  we  do  resist  them,  and 
this  very  struggle  assures  us  of  their  reality,  for  in  it  we  feel  the 
difficulty  of  measuring  ourselves  against  its  influence. 

Any  system  of  philosophy  is  too  big  for  the  average  man — yes, 
for  the  Christian  man — which  overlooks  the  terrible  reality  of  "little 
troubles." 

It  is  not  the  great  boulders,  but  the  small  pebbles  on  the  road, 
that  bring  the  traveling  horse  on  his  knees ;  and  it  is  the  petty 
annoyances  of  life,  ever  present,  to  be  met  and  conquered  afresh 
every  day,  that  try  most  severely  the  metal  of  which  we  are  made. 
And  when  we  are  in  the  very  thick  of  such  a  fight,  how  often  are  we 
met  with  that  aggravating  little  bit  of  sympathy  that  "  it  will  be  all 
the  same  a  hundred  years  hence." 

There  is  no  comfort  in  a  dictum  so  mocking  and  so  untrue.  It 
does  not  touch  the  question  at  all ;  and  it  is  not  true.  For  nothing 
happens  for  nothing ;  and  whether  we  did  or  did  not  do  a  certain 
thing,  or  whether  we  got,  or  did  not  get  another,  may  have  very 
important  consequences,  even  a  hundred  years  hence.  Besides,  this 
kind  of  consolation,  carried  out  to  its  logical  conclusion,  would  take 
every  honest  and  honorable  purpose  out  of  life.  A  man  could  easily 
persuade  himself  by  it,  that  whether  he  did  his  duty  or  not,  whether 
he  earned  his  bread  or  stole  it,  would  be  "  all  the  same  a  hundred 
years  hence."  We  don't  live  for  a  hundred  years  hence,  we  are  here 
to  do  to-day* 8  duty,  and  whatever  helps  us  best  to-day  is  the  help  we 
need. 

What  are  we  then  to  do  with  these  ever-recurring  little  trials, 
from  which  we  see  no  release  this  side  of  the  grave  ?  Do  not  *et  us 
blink  matters.  Our  friends  grow  wea/ry  of  them.  Smitten  by  the 
same  blows,  vre  go  on  repeating  the  same  cries,  and  this  monotony  is 

221 


LITTLE    TROUBLES. 

hard  to  bear  with.  Friendship  that  can  overlook  our  faults  wears 
out  with  our  complaints.  The  sympathy  that  finds  us  every  morn- 
ing just  as  it  leaves  us  every  night,  can  no  more  maintain  its  life 
than  flame  can  burn  in  a  vacuum.  "  To  whom  then  shall  we  go  ?" 
Go  to  that  divine  Friend  whose  pierced  hands  have  so  often  raised 
us  up.  It  was  not  to  the  unhappy  Jesus  forbade  "  repetitions."  "We 
may  importune  him  without  fear ;  we  may  tell  him  all,  and  tell  it 
every  day. 

But  will  he  care  for  such  small  troubles  as  harass  our  little  affairs, 
and  let  out  our  life,  as  it  were,  by  multitudes  of  pin-pricks  ?  Yes, 
for  our  God  is  not  a  God  who  only  occupies  himself  with  weighty 
matters.  He  is  no  overtasked  being  who  sits  afar  off,  and  abandons 
the  care  of  every-day  trials  and  interests  to  inferior  agents.  He  is  a 
God  to  whom  everything  is  little,  and  everything  is  great,  who 
counts  one  poor  human  soul  of  more  value  than  a  world,  who  num- 
bers the  hairs  of  our  heads,  and  counts  our  tears.  We  can  never 
weary  God,  and  nothing  that  gives  us  an  anxious  thought  or  a  weary 
feeling  is  beneath  his  notice. 

These  little  trials  are  the  soul's  drill  and  discipline.  We  make 
our  lives,  as  we  sew — stitch  by  stitch ;  often  wearily  enough,  often 
faint  and  discouraged,  but  perseverance  in  well  doing  always  touches 
the  heart  of  God,  who  seems  to  say  at  the  last,  "  That  wiU  do  /" 


NXTETY  is  the  poison  of  life ;  the  parent  of  many  sins  and 
of  more  miseries.  Why,  then,  allow  it,  when  we  know  that 
all  the  future  is  guided  by  a  Father's  hand  ?  Blair. 


MANY  dishes  bring  many  diseases.  Plvrw 


222 


TKANSEENT    TKOUBLES 

'OST  of  us  have  had  troubles  all  our  lives,  and  each  day 
has  brought  all  the  evil  that  we  wished  to  endure.  But 
if  we  were  asked  to  recount  the  sorrows  of  our  lives,  how 
many  could  we  remember?  How  many  that  are  six  months  old 
should  we  think  worthy  to  be  remembered  or  mentioned  ?  To- 
day's troubles  look  large,  but  a  week  hence  they  will  be  forgotten 
and  buried  out  of  sight. 

If  you  would  keep  a  book,  and  every  day  put  down  the  things 
that  worry  you,  and  see  what  becomes  of  them,  it  would  be  a 
benefit  to  you.  You  allow  a  thing  to  annoy  you,  just  as  you 
allow  a  fly  to  settle  on  you  and  plague  you;  and  you  lose  your 
temper  (or  rather  get  it ;  for  when  men  are  surcharged  with  tern 
per  they  are  said  to  have  lost  it) ;  and  you  justify  yourselves  for 
being  thrown  off  your  balance  by  causes  which  you  do  not  trace 
out.  But  if  you  would  see  what  it  was  that  threw  you  off  your 
balance  before  breakfast,  and  put  it  down  in  a  little  book,  and  fol- 
low it  out,  and  ascertain  what  becomes  of  it,  you  would  see  what 
a  fool  you  were  in  the  matter. 

The  art  of  forgetting  is  a  blessed  art,  but  the  art  of  overlooking 
is  quite  as  important.  And  if  we  should  take  time  to  write  down 
the  origin,  the  progress,  and  outcome  of  a  few  of  our  troubles,  it 
would  make  us  so  ashamed  of  the  fuss  we  make  over  them,  that  we 
should  be  glad  to  drop  such  things  and  bury  them  at  once  in  eternal 
forgetfulness.  Life  is  too  short  to  be  worn  out  in  petty  worries, 
frettings,  hatreds,  and  vexations.  Let  us  think  only  on  whatso- 
ever things  are  pure,  and  lovely,  and  gentle,  and  of  good  report. 
— Anonymous. 

223 


WOKKING    AND    WAITING. 

HUSBANDMAN  who  many  years 
Had  ploughed  his  field  and  sown  in  tears 
Grew  weary  with  his  doubts  and  fears : 

"  I  toil  in  vain  !  these  rocks  and  sands 

Will  yield  no  harvest  to  my  hands ; 

The  best  seeds  rot  in  barren  lands. 

My  drooping  vine  is  withering  ; 

No  promised  grapes  its  blossoms  bring ; 

No  birds  among  the  branches  sing ; 

My  flock  is  dying  on  the  plain ; 

The  heavens  are  brass — they  yield  no  rain ; 

The  earth  is  iron, — I  toil  in  vain !" 

While  yet  he  spake,  a  breath  had  stirred 
His  drooping  vine,  like  wing  of  bird, 
And  from  its  leaves  a  voice  he  heard : 
"  The  germs  and  fruits  of  life  must  be 
Forever  hid  in  mystery, 
Yet  none  can  toil  in  vain  for  Me. 
A  mightier  hand,  more  skilled  than  thine, 
Must  hang  the  clusters  on  the  vine, 
And  make  the  fields  with  harvest  shine. 
Man  can  but  work ;  God  can  create  : 
But  they  who  work,  and  watch,  and  wait, 
Have  their  reward,  though  it  come  late. 
Look  up  to  heaven !  behold,  and  hear 
234 


CONTENT. 

and  thunderings  in  thy  ear— 
%'er  to  thy  doubts  and  fear." 

ad,  and  lo  1  a  cloud-draped  car, 
liling  smoke  and  flames  afar, 
jhing  from  a  distant  star  ; 
ery  thirsty  flock  and  plain 
dng  up  to  meet  the  rain, 
une  to  clothe  the  fields  with  grain  ; 
a  the  clouds  he  saw  again, 
ovenant  of  God  with  men, 
.tten  with  His  rainbow  pen  : 
i-time  and  harvest  shall  not  fail, 
though  the  gates  of  hell  assail, 
iruth  and  promise  shall  prevail  1 " — Anonymous. 


CONTENT. 

Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigournti 

T  thou  the  man  whose  mansions  hold 
The  worldling's  pomp  and  miser's  gold. 
Obtains  a  richer  prize 

Than  he,  who,  in  his  cot  at  rest 

Finds  heavenly  peace  a  willing  guest, 

And  bears  the  promise  in  his  breast 

Of  treasure  in  the  skies  ? 


fOW  sour  sweet  music  is, 

When  time  is  broke,  and  no  proportion  kept  1 
So  is  it  in  the  music  of  men's  lives. 

— Shakespeare. 
225 


WOKKING    AND    WAITING. 

HUSBANDMAN  who  many  years 
Had  ploughed  his  field  and  sown  i 
Grew  weary  with  his  doubts  and  f i 

"  I  toil  in  vain  !  these  rocks  and  sands 

Will  yield  no  harvest  to  my  hands ; 

The  best  seeds  rot  in  barren  lands. 

My  drooping  vine  is  withering  ; 

No  promised  grapes  its  blossoms  bring ; 

Ne  birds  among  the  branches  sing ; 

My  flock  is  dying  on  the  plain ; 

The  heavens  are  brass — they  yield  no  rain ; 

The  earth  is  iron. — I  toil  in  vain !" 

While  yet  he  spake,  a  breath  had  stirred 
His  drooping  vine,  like  wing  of  bird, 
And  from  its  leaves  a  voice  he  heard : 
"  The  germs  and  fruits  of  life  must  be 
Forever  hid  in  mystery, 
Yet  none  can  toil  in  vain  for  Me. 
A  mightier  hand,  more  skilled  than  thine, 
Mnst  hang  the  clusters  on  the  vine, 
And  make  the  fields  with  harvest  shine. 
Man  can  but  work ;  God  can  create  : 
But  they  who  work,  and  watch,  and  wait, 
Have  their  reward,  though  it  come  late. 
Look  up  to  heaven !  behold,  and  hear 

234 


CONTENT. 

The  clouds  and  thunderings  in  thy  ear—- 
An answer  to  thy  doubts  and  fear." 

He  looked,  and  lo !  a  cloud-draped  car, 

With  trailing  smoke  and  flames  afar, 

Was  rushing  from  a  distant  star  ; 

And  every  thirsty  flock  and  plain 

Was  rising  np  to  meet  the  rain, 

That  came  to  clothe  the  fields  with  grain  ; 

And  on  the  clouds  he  saw  again, 

The  covenant  of  God  with  men, 

Rewritten  with  His  rainbow  pen  : 

"  Seed-time  and  harvest  shall  not  fail, 

And  though  the  gates  of  hell  assail, 

My  truth  and  promise  shall  prevail  1 " — Anonymous. 


CONTENT. 

Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigoumti 

>HLNK'ST  thou  the  man  whose  mansions  hold 
The  worldling's  pomp  and  miser's  gold. 
Obtains  a  richer  prize 

Than  he,  who,  in  his  cot  at  rest 

Finds  heavenly  peace  a  willing  guest, 

And  bears  the  promise  in  his  breast 

Of  treasure  in  the  skies  ? 


fOW  sour  sweet  music  is, 

When  time  is  broke,  and  no  proportion  kept  1 
So  is  it  in  the  music  of  men's  lives. 

— Shakespeare. 

o  225 


LET    BY-GONES    BE    BY-GONES. 

>ET  by-gones  be  by-gones.    If  by-gones  were  clouded 

By  aught  that  occasioned  a  pang  of  regret, 
O,  let  them  in  darkest  oblivion  be  shrouded ; 
'Tis  wise  and  'tis  kind  to  forgive  and  forget. 

Let  by-gones  be  by-gones,  and  good  be  extracted 

From  ill  over  which  it  is  folly  to  fret ; 
The  wisest  of  mortals  have  foolishly  acted — 

The  kindest  are  those  who  forgive  and  forget. 

Let  by-gones  be  by-gones.  O,  cherish  no  longer 
The  thought  that  the  sun  of  affection  has  set ; 

Eclipsed  for  a  moment,  its  rays  will  be  stronger, 
If  you,  like  a  Christian,  forgive  and  forget. 

Let  by-gones  be  by-gones.     Your  heart  will  be  lighter 
When  kindness  of  yours  with  reception  has  met ; 

The  flame  of  your  love  will  be  purer  and  brighter, 
If,  God-like,  you  strive  to  forgive  and  forget. 

Let  by-gones  be  by-gones.     O,  purge  out  the  leaven 

Of  malice,  and  try  an  example  to  set 
To  others,  who,  craving  the  mercy  of  heaven, 

Are  sadly  too  slow  to  forgive  and  forget 

Let  by-gones  be  by-gones.    Remember  how  deeply 
To  heaven's  forbearance  we  all  are  in  debt ; 

220 


THE    CHRISTIAN    AT    HOME. 

They  value  God's  infinite  goodness  too  cheaply 
Who  heed  not  the  precept,  "  Forgive  and  forget. 

— Chambers'  Jbwrnal. 


THE     CHRISTIAN    AT    HOME. 

§HRISTIANITY  begins  in  the  home.  If  not  there,  it  is 
nowhere.  We  may  attend  meetings,  and  sing  hymns,  and 
join  devoutly  in  prayer  ;  we  may  give  money  to  the  poor,  and 
send  missionaries  and  Bibles  to  the  heathen ;  we  may  organize  socie- 
ties of  every  description  for  doing  good ;  we  may  get  up  church 
fairs,  and  tea-parties  and  tableaux  and  picnics ;  we  may,  in  short, 
devote  all  our  time  and  all  our  means  to  doing  good,  and  yet  not  be 
the  true  and  earnest  Christians  we  ought  to  be,  after  all. 

If  they  cannot  say  of  us  in  the  family  at  home :  "  He — or  she — 
is  a  Christian,  we  know  it,  we  feel  it,"  if  home  is  not  a  better  and 
happier  place  for  our  living  in  it,  if  there  is  not  an  influence  going 
out  from  us,  day  by  day,  silently  drawing  those  about  us  in  the  right 
direction,  then  it  is  time  for  us  to  stop  where  we  are,  and  begin  to 
examine  into  our  title  to, the  name  of  Christian. 

Christianity.  Christ-likeness.  Is  that  ours  ?  Are  we  possessed 
of  that?  Are  we  patient,  kind,  long-suffering,  forbearing,  seeking 
with  all  our  hearts  to  do  good,  dreading  with  all  our  hearts  to  do 
evil? 

For  if  we  are  Christ's  we  shall  be  like  Him  ;  and  the  first  fruits, 
and  the  best  fruits,  of  our  daily  living,  will  be  in  the  better  and 
n  rC8  of  those  who  are  about  us  day  by  day. — Anonymous. 

227 


KEIIGION    IN    THE    FAMILY. 

Bishop  F.  D.  Huntington. 

,  my  friends,  with  your  children.  Speak  cheerfully,  but 
jjm  reverently  and  solemnly,  to  them  of  the  righteousness  of 
*^*  God.  Tell  them  He  is  their  father,  and  tell  them  He  is 
their  judge.  Show  them  His  face  of  compassion ;  show  them  His 
throne  of  retribution.  Teach  them  that  He  loves  the  good  ;  teach 
them  that  He  hates  lying,  and  lust,  and  all  iniquity,  and  that,  for 
Hia  goodness'  sake,  He  will  sweep  those  who  do  not  hate  them 
finally  into  tribulation.  Take  care,  yourselves,  to  touch  not  the 
unclean  thing,  so  that  your  counsel  to  your  sons  and  daughters  bo 
not  a  mockery.  Shake  off  the  first  dishonest  penny  from  your 
fingers,  as  the  apostle  shook  off  the  venomous  viper  into  the  fire. 
Stand  in  awe  at  your  conscience ;  stand  in  awe  of  the  King  of  kings. 
Expect  and  welcome,  from  the  ministry  of  Christ,  searching  mes- 
sage. Pray  for  prophets  who  will  rebuke  you,  as  their  ancient 
predecessors  did  Israel,  for  robbing  man  by  any  fraud,  for  robbing 
God  by  keeping  back  the  offerings  at  His  altar  which  he  requires  at 
your  hands.  And  when  we,  your  ministers,  are  weak,  when  our 
lips  stammer,  or  our  courage  falters,  or  our  poor  lives  seem  to 
empty  our  words  of  power,  turn  to  old  Isaiah,  and  listen  to  the 
burden  of  his  advent  vision  : 

"Hear,  O,  heaven,  and  give  ear,  O  earth,  for  the  Lord  hath 
spoken.  I  have  nourished  and  brought  up  children,  and  they  have 
rebelled  against  me.  Wash  you ;  make  you  clean.  Cease  to  do 
evil ;  learn  to  do  well.  Seek  judgment ;  relieve  the  oppressed ; 
right  the  fatherless ;  plead  for  the  widow.  Zion  shall  be  redeemed 

228 


CERTAINTIES     IN     RELIGION. 


with  judgment,  and  her  converts  with  righteousness.  Say  ye  to 
the  righteous,  it  shall  be  well  with  them,  for  the  reward  of  hia 
/and  stall  be  given  him.  The  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it." 


CEKTAINTIES    IN     RELIGION. 

Rev.  Joseph  Cook. 

LITTLE  while  ago  we  were  not  in  the  world — a  little 
while  hence  we  shall  be  here  no  longer.  This  is  arith- 
metic. This  is  the  clock.  Demosthenes  used  to  say  that 
every  speech  should  begin  with  an  incontrovertible  proposition. 
Now,  it  is  scientifically  incontrovertible  that  a  little  while  ago,  we 
were  not  here,  and  a  little  while  hence  we  shall  be  here  no  more. 
De  Tocqueville  said  that  you  will  in  vain  try  to  make  any  man 
religious  who  has  no  thought  of  dying.  Now,  the  first  of  religious 
certainties  is,  that  we  are  going  hence  soon.  As  to  that  proposition 
there  is  not  a  particle  of  doubt.  I  defy  any  man  to  deny  that  we 
are  going  hence.  I  defy  any  man  to  deny  that  we  want  to  go  hence 
in  peace.  I  defy  any  man  to  show  that  we  can  go  hence  unless  we 
are  harmonized  with  our  environment.  What  is  that  ?  Our  envi- 
ronment is  made  up  of  God,  of  the  plan  of  our  own  natures,  and 
of  our  record  in  the  past ;  and  therefore  we  must  be  harmonized 
with  God  in  conscience,  and  our  record,  or,  in  the  very  nature  of 
things,  there  cannot  be  peace  for  us.  Aristotle  built  his  whole 
philosophy  on  the  proposition  that  no  thing  can  exist  and  not  exist 
at  the  same  time,  and  in  the  same  sense ;  that  is  to  say,  self-contra- 
diction is  the  proof  of  error  everywhere.  And  now,  since  we 
have  an  environment,  made  up  of  God,  conscience  and  our  record, 
we  must  be  either  in  harmony  or  in  dissonance  with  it ;  and  if  we 

229 


WINNING     SOULS. 

are  in  dissonance  we  are  not  in  harmony  with  it ;  and  if  we  are  in 
harmony,  we  are  not  in  dissonance  with  it.  And  so  it  is  incontro- 
vertible that  with  whatever  environment  we  cannot  escape  from, 
we  must  come  into  harmony,  and  that  environment  consists  of  con- 
science and  of  God,  and  of  our  record. 

Similarity  of  feeling  with  God,  or  a  love  of  what  He  loves,  and 
a  hate  of  what  he  hates,  is  an  unalterable  natural  condition  of  peace 
of  soul  in  this  life  and  the  next. 


WINNING    SOULS. 

Buhop  E.  8.  Janes. 

in  some  way  we  can  work  and  live  and  act  for  Christ. 
We  can  all  of  us  be  true  soldiers  under  the  great  Captain  of 
our  salvation,  and  we  may  all  of  us  in  some  way  win  souls  to 
the  Master.  I  think  this  one  passage  of  Scripture  is  enough  to 
prove  this :  "  Let  him  know,  that  he  which  converteth  the  sinner 
from  the  error  of  his  way,  shall  save  a  soul  from  death,  and  shall 
hide  a  multitude  of  sins."  What  a  work  !  What  a  result ! 

O,  what  an  investment  is  this  rational  and  immortal  nature  which 
God  has  given  us,  which  qualifies  us  for  divine  blessings  and  fo> 
eternal  felicity.  What  majesty,  what  interest,  what  value  does  tlm 
give  to  our  souls  !  O,  how  much  pertinency  there  was  in  the  quee 
tion  of  the  Saviour,  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  shall  gain  the 
whole1  world  and  lose  his  own  soul,  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in 
exchange  for  his  soul  ?  "  And  now  if  our  own  salvation  be  so  pre- 
cious and  so  important,  the  salvation  of  those  poor  degraded  brethren 
that  we  see  around  us,  inasmuch  as  they  share  this  nature,  is  of  equal 
moment.  They  are  not  as  cultured,  perhaps,  as  we  are ;  they  are 
not  as  cleanly  in  their  person,  they  are  not  as  happy  in  their  condi- 

230 


WINNING    SOULS. 

tion,  their  social  state  as  well  as  their  personal  character  is  unlike 
ours,  and  yet,  this  immortality  is  in  them ;  this  capacity  for  bearing 
the  image  of  God  and  enjoying  the  beatitudes  of  eternity  is  in  them ; 
consequently  their  souls  are  as  precious  as  ours  and  their  salvation  as 
important  as  ours.  And  besides  this,  Jesus  died  for  them  as  well  as 
he  died  for  us.  They  are  just  as  much  the  purchase  of  his  blood 
and  they  are  as  much  redeemed  of  his  love  as  we  are.  If  we  should 
succeed  in  acquiring  the  whole  world  and  lose  our  own  souls,  then  it 
is  a  legitimate  inference  that  their  salvation  is  of  more  importance 
than  all  this  world.  It  is  a  grander  enterprise,  it  is  a  sublimer  result 
to  save  a  human  soul  through  the  mediation  of  Christ  and  through 
the  instrumentality  of  grace  than  to  make  a  world.  No  wonder, 
then,  that  the  inspired  writer  said  he  that  saves  a  soul  is  wise.  It  is 
the  very  highest  of  human  wisdom  because  we  choose  the  greatest 
interest,  the  sublimest  and  most  sacred  result,  we  choose  the  highest 
sphere  of  usefulness  to  accomplish  the  greatest  and  grandest  of  al] 
results  :  and  if  we  seek  to  do  this  as  Christians,  by  teaching  men  as 
God  teaches  us  by  his  word  ;  by  influencing  them  as  God  influences 
us  by  his  truth  ;  by  influencing  them  as  God  permits  us  in  invoking 
upon  them  the  divine  power  and  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit — O,  if 
we  choose  this  greatest  object  of  ambition,  of  effort,  of  aspiration, 
and  pursue  it  according  to  the  teachings  of  the  Bible,  looking  to 
God  to  crown  our  effort  with  success,  I  repeat  it,  we  are  exercising 
the  very  highest  of  human  wisdom.  There  is  nothing  to  compare 
with  it. 


I  think  of  the  agencies  which  are  ceaselessly  at  work  to 
make  this  bad  world  better,  I  am  thankful  that  I  live. 

W.  Morley  Punslion,  LL.D. 
281 


YOUR    MISSION. 

Danid  Marck,  D.  D. 
f  ARK,  the  voice  of  Jesus  crying,— 

"  Who  will  go  and  work  to-day  ? 
Fields  are  white  and  harvest  waiting ! 
"Who  will  bear  the  sheaves  away  ? " 
Loud  and  strong  the  Master  calleth, 

Rich  reward  he  offers  thee ; 
Who  will  answer,  gladly  saying, 
"  Here  am  I ;  send  me,  send  me !" 

If  you  cannot  cross  the  ocean, 

And  the  heathen  lands  explore ; 
You  can  find  the  heathen  nearer, 

You  can  help  them  at  your  door. 
If  you  cannot  give  your  thousands, 

You  can  give  the  widow's  mite  ; 
And  the  least  you  do  for  Jesus, 

Will  be  precious  in  his  sight. 

If  you  cannot  speak  like  angels ; 

If  you  cannot  preach  like  Paul ; 
You  can  tell  the  love  of  Jesus, 

You  can  say  He  died  for  all. 
If  you  cannot  rouse  the  wicked 

With  the  judgment's  dread  alarms. 
You  can  lead  the  little  children 

To  the  Saviour's  waiting  arms. 
282 


TOUS    MISSION. 

If  you  cannot  be  the  watchman 

Standing  high  on  Zion's  wall, 
Pointing  out  the  path  to  heaven, 

Offering  life  and  peace  to  all ; 
With  your  prayers  and  with  your  bounties 

You  can  do  what  heaven  demands ; 
You  can  be  like  faithful  Aaron, 

Holding  up  the  prophet's  hands. 

If  among  the  older  people, 

You  may  not  be  apt  to  teach ; 
"  Feed  my  lambs,"  said  Christ,  our  Shepherd, 

"  Place  the  food  within  their  reach," 
And  it  may  be  that  the  children 

You  have  led  with  trembling  hand, 
Will  be  found  among  your  jewels 

When  you  reach  the  better  land. 

Let  none  hear  you  idly  saying, 

"  There  is  nothing  I  can  do," 
While  the  souls  of  men  are  dying, 

And  the  Master  calls  for  you. 
Take  the  task  he  gives  you  gladly ; 

Let  his  work  your  pleasure  be ; 
Answer  quickly  when  he  calleth, 

"  Here  am  I ;  send  me,  send  me  I  " 


O  serve  with  lofty  gifts  the  lowly  needfl 

Of  the  poor  race  for  which  the  God-man  died, 
And  do  it  all  for  love— oh,  this  is  great ! 

J.  G.  HoUcvnd. 

238 


WHATEVER    YOU    DO,    DO    IT    WELL. 

JOB  slighted,  because  it  is  apparently  unimportant,  leads  tu 
habitual  neglect,  so  that  men  degenerate,  insensibly,  into  bad 
workmen. 

"That  is  a  good  rough  job,"  said  a  foreman  in  our  hearing, 
recently,  and  he  meant  that  it  was  a  piece  of  work,  not  elegant  in 
itself,  but  strongly  made  and  well  put  together. 

Training  the  hand  and  eye  to  do  work  well,  leads  individuals  to 
form  correct  habits  in  other  respects,  and  a  good  workman  is,  in 
most  cases,  a  good  citizen.  No  one  need  hope  to  rise  above  his  pre- 
sent situation  who  suffers  small  things  to  pass  by,  unimproved,  or 
who  neglects,  metaphorically  speaking,  to  pick  up  a  cent  because  it 
is  not  a  dollar.  Some  of  the  wisest  law-makers,  the  best  states- 
men, the  most  gifted  artists,  the  most  merciful  judges,  the  most 
ingenious  mechanics,  rose  from  the  great  mass. 

A  rival  of  a  certain  lawyer  sought  to  humiliate  him  publicly  by 
Baying :  "  You  blacked  my  father's  boots  once."  "  Yes,"  replied  the 
lawyer,  unabashed,  "  and  I  did  it  well."  And  because  of  his  habit 
of  doing  even  mean  things  well,  he  rose  to  greater. 

Take  heart,  all  who  toil !  all  youths  in  humble  situations,  all  in 
adverse  circumstances.  If  it  be  but  to  drive  the  plow,  strive  to  do 
well ;  if  only  to  cut  bolts,  make  good  ones  ;  or  to  blow  the  bellows, 
keep  the  iron  hot.  It  is  attention  to  business  that  lifts  the  feet 
higher  up  on  the  ladder. 

Says  the  good  Book :  "  Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in  his  business, 
he  shall  stand  before  kings ;  he  shall  not  stand  before  mean  men  "• 
Anonymous. 

384 


INDUSTRY. 

Benjamin  Franklin, 

>HE  way  to  wealth  is  as  plain  as  the  way  to  market.  It  de- 
pends chiefly  on  two  words,  industry  and  frugality ;  that  is, 
waste  neither  time  nor  money,  but  make  the  best  use  of 
both.  Without  industry  and  frugality,  nothing  will  do,  and  with 
them  everything. 

Sloth  makes  all  things  difficult,  but  industry  all  easy;  and  he 
that  riseth  late  must  trot  all  day,  and  shall  scarce  overtake  his  busi- 
ness at  night,  while  laziness  travels  so  slowly  that  poverty  soon  over- 
takes him. 

Industry  need  not  wish,  and  he  that  lives  upon  hopes  will  die 
fasting.  There  are  no  gains  without  pains  ;  then  help,  hands,  for  I 
have  no  lands  ;  or  if  I  have,  they  are  smartly  taxed.  He  that  hath 
a  trade  hath  an  estate,  and  he  that  hath  a  calling,  hath  an  office  of 
profit  and  honor,  but  then  the  trade  must  be  worked  at,  and  the  call- 
ing followed,  or  neither  the  estate  nor  the  office  will  enable  us  to 
pay  our  taxes.  If  we  are  industrious,  we  shall  never  starve  ;  for,  at 
the  working-man's  house,  hunger  looks  in,  but  dares  not  enter.  Nor 
will  the  bailiff  or  the  constable  enter,  for  industry  pays  debts,  while 
despair  increaseth  them. 

Employ  thy  tune  well,  if  thou  meanest  to  gain  leisure ;  and  since 
thou  art  not  sure  of  a  minute,  throw  not  away  an  hour.  Leisure  is 
time  for  doing  something  useful ;  this  leisure  the  diligent  man  will 
obtain,  but  the  lazy  man  never ;  for  a  life  of  leisure  and  a  life  of 
laziness  are  two  things. 


AET  is  the  application  of  knowledge  to  a  practical  end. 

Sir  John  Herschd . 
885 


KNOW    THYSELF. 

Mrs.  L.  H.  Siyournry. 
?HEN  gentle  twilight  sits 

On  Day's  forsaken  throne, 
'Mid  the  sweet  hush  of  eventide. 
Muse  by  thyself  alone, 
And  at  the  time  of  rest, 

Ere  sleep  asserts  its  power, 
Hold  pleasant  converse  with  thyself 
In  Meditation's  bower. 

Motives  and  deeds  review 

By  Memory's  truthful  glass, 
Thy  silent  self  the  only  judge 

And  critic  as  they  pass ; 
And  if  thy  wayward  face 

Should  give  thy  conscience  pain, 
Resolve  with  energy  divine 

The  victory  to  gain. 

When  morning's  earliest  rays 

O'er  spire  and  roof-tree  fall, 
Gladly  invite  thy  waking  heart 

Unto  a  festival 
Of  smiles  and  love  to  all, 

The  lowliest  and  the  least, 
And  of  delighted  praise  to  Him, 

The  Giver  of  the  feast. 
236 


KNOW     THYSELF. 

Not  on  the  outer  world 

For  inward  joy  depend  ; 
Enjoy  the  luxury  of  thought. 

Make  thine  ownself  thy  friend ; 
Not  with  the  restless  throng, 

In  search  of  solace  roam, 
But  with  an  independent  zeal 

Be  intimate  at  home. 

Good  company  have  they, 

Who  by  themselves  do  walk, 
If  they  have  learned  on  blessed  theme* 

With  their  own  souls  to  talk  ; 
For  they  shall  never  feel 

Of  dull  ennui  the  power, 
Not  penury  of  loneliness 

Shall  haunt  their  hall  or  bower. 

Drink  waters  from  the  fount 

That  in  thy  bosom  springs, 
And  envy  not  the  mingled  draught 

Of  satraps  or  of  kings  ; 
So  shalt  thou  find  at  last, 

Far  from  the  giddy  brain, 
Self-knowledge  and  self-culture  lead 

To  uncomputed  gain. 


THEY  are  never  alone  that  are  accompanied  with  noble  though1. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

287 


IMPORTANCE    OF    CHARACTER 

is  a  difference  between  character  and  reputation. 
Character  is  what  we  really  are.  Reputation  is  what  others 
suppose  we  are.  A  man  may  have  a  good  character  and 
a  bad  reputation,  or  he  may  have  a  good  reputation  and  a  bad 
character.  The  reason  of  this  is,  that  we  form  our  opinions  of 
men  from  what  they  appear  to  be,  and  not  from  what  they  really 
are.  Some  men  appear  to  be  much  better  than  they  really  are, 
while  others  are  better  than  they  appear  to  be.  Most  men  are 
more  anxious  about  their  reputation  than  they  are  about  their 
character.  This  is  improper.  While  every  man  should  endeavor 
to  maintain  a  good  reputation,  he  should  especially  labor  to  possess 
a  good  character.  Our  true  happiness  depends  not  so  much  on 
what  is  thought  of  us  by  others,  as  on  what  we  really  are  in  our- 
selves. Men  of  good  character  are  generally  men  of  good  repu- 
tation ;  but  this  is  not  always  the  case,  as  the  motives  and  actions 
of  the  best  of  men  are  sometimes  misunderstood  and  misrepre- 
sented. But  it  is  important,  above  everything  else,  that  we  be 
right,  and  do  right,  whether  our  motives  and  actions  are  properly 
understood  and  appreciated  or  not.  Nothing  can  be  so  important 
to  any  man  as  the  formation  and  possession  of  a  good  character. 

The  influences  which  operate  in  the  formation  of  character  are 
numerous,  and  however  trivial  some  of  them  may  appear,  they  are 
not  to  be  despised.  The  most  powerful  forces  in  nature  are  those 
which  operate  silently  and  imperceptibly.  This  is  equally  true  of 
those  moral  forces  which  exert  the  greatest  influences  on  our 

288 


IMPORTANCE  OF  CHARACTER. 

minds,  and  give  complexion  to  our  characters.     Among  these,  early 
impressions,  example,  and  habits,  are  perhaps  the  most  powerful. 

Early  impressions,  although  they  may  appear  to  be  but  slight, 
are  the  most  enduring,  and  exert  the  greatest  influences  on  the  life. 
By  repetition  they  acquire  strength,  become  deeply  rooted  in  the 
mind,  and  give  bent  and  inclination  to  its  powers.  "  The  tiniest 
bits  of  opinion  sown  in  the  minds  of  children  in  private  life,  after- 
wards issue  forth  to  the  world,  and  become  its  public  opinion  ;  for 
nations  are  gathered  out  of  nurseries."  Examples,  it  is  said,  preach 
to  eyes ;  and  there  are  but  few  persons,  especially  among  the  young, 
who  can  avoid  imitating  those  with  whom  they  associate.  For  the 
most  part,  this  is  so  unconscious  that  its  effects  are  almost  unheeded, 
but  its  influence  is  not  on  that  account  the  less  permanent.  The 
models  which  are  daily  placed  before  us,  tend  to  mould  our  char- 
acter and  shape  our  course  in  life.  Habit  results  from  the  repeti- 
tion of  the  same  act,  until  we  become  so  accustomed  to  it,  that  its 
performance  -requires  no  mental  effort,  and  scarcely  attracts  our 
attention. 

By  the  influence  of  early  impressions,  the  force  of  example,  an*.1 
the  power  of  habit,  the  character  becomes  slowly  and  impercep- 
tibly, but  at  length  decidedly  formed  ;  the  individual  acquires  those 
traits  and  qualities  by  which  he  is  distinguished,  and  which  bear 
directly  upon  his  happiness  and  welfare.  It  is  very  important, 
then,  for  every  one,  and  especially  for  the  young,  to  be  very  care- 
ful as  to  the  impressions  he  cherishes,  the  example  he  imitates, 
and  the  habits  he  forms.  These  are  important  elements  which  go 
to  constitute  character,  and  if  they  are  of  an  improper  nature,  the 
result  will  be  ruinous.  Character  is  everything.  It  matters  not 
what  a  man's  reputation  may  be,  without  a  good  character  he  can- 
not be  really  happy. — Methodist  Recorder. 

239 


INFLUENCE    OF    CHARACTER. 

W.  M.  Taylor,  D.  I). 

influence  of  character  can  never  be  over-estimated.  We 
call  it  influence,  indeed;  but  we  might,  perhaps  —  as 
Whately  somewhere  says — with  more  significance,  style  it 
,  for  it  is  continually  radiating  from  a  man,  and  then  most 
of  all  when  he  is  least  conscious  of  its  emanation.  We  are  moulding 
others  wherever  we  are ;  and  if  we  were  in  every  respect  to  live 
according  to  the  gospel,  we  should  be  the  noblest  missionaries  of  the 
cross  that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  Books  are  only  powerful  when 
they  are  read  ;  sermons  are  only  influential  when  they  are  listened 
to;  but  character  keeps  itself  at  all  times  before  men's  attention, 
and  its  might  is  felt  by  every  one  who  comes  within  its  sphere. 
Other  agencies  are  intermittent,  like  the  revolving  light,  which,  after 
a  time  of  brightness,  goes  out  into  a  period  of  darkness ;  but  reli- 
gious principle  is  continuous  in  its  operation,  and  shines  with  the 
steady  radiance  of  a  star.  Hence,  of  all  the  ways  by  which  Chris- 
tians may  tell  on  the  surrounding  world,  this  is  the  most  potent,  and 
probably  there  are  no  means  more  blessed  for  the  conversion  of 
sinners,  and  the  elevation  of  spiritual  life  among  believers,  than  the 
habitual  deportment  of  the  disciples  of  Jesus.  Frequently  a  servant 
has  been  brought  to  Christ  by  the  sight  of  the  Christian  consistency 
of  her  mistress ;  and  not  seldom  all  the  members  of  a  household 
have  been  benefited  by  the  piety  of  a  humble  maiden.  I  have 
known  the  young  men  of  an  office  seriously  impressed  by  the  ster- 
ling principle  of  a  fellow-clerk ;  and  sometimes  the  holy  walk  of  a 
bimple-minded  artisan  has  won  not  only  the  admiration,  but  also  the 

240 


INFLUENCE    OF    CHARACTER. 

initation  of  his  neighbors.  Now,  this  is  a  means  of  usefulnet*- 
within  the  reach  of  every  one,  and  were  we  thoroughly  alive  to  its 
importance,  we  should  he  more  careful  than  we  are  of  our  conduct, 
for  is  it  not  the  case  that,  instead  of  commending  Christ  by  our 
livoa,  we  too  frequently  give  occasion  to  the  enemies  of  the  Lord  to 
blaspheme,  and  mar  the  force  of  the  truth  by  our  inconsistency  ? 
Instead  of  adding  new  energy  to  the  gospel  by  our  conduct,  we  take 
away  from  its  power  by  our  iniquities ;  and  men  say,  if  the  life  of  a 
Christian  be  such  as  we  have  manifested,  they  will  be  no  Christians. 
Who  can  tell  how  many  have  been  thus  repelled  from  the  word  of 
truth  ?  And  is  it  not  a  fact,  that  one  of  the  strongest  evidences  of 
the  divinity  of  our  religion  may  be  derived  from  the  consideration 
that  it  has  survived  the  injuries  inflicted  on  it  by  the  Christless  con- 
duct of  its  professed  adherents  ?  My  brethren,  is  this  inconsistency 
to  continue  among  us  ?  Let  us  to-day  resolve  that,  God  helping  us, 
we  shall  live  more  thoroughly  in  harmony  with  those  noble  princi- 
ples which  Christ  enforced  by  his  teaching,  and  adorned  by  his 
example.  In  the  family,  let  us  cultivate  the  graces  of  patience,  for- 
bearance, love,  and  self-sacrifice ;  in  the  social  circle,  let  us  seek  to 
manifest  meekness  and  purity ;  in  business  pursuits,  let  us  show  that 
we  are  actuated  by  justice  and  integrity ;  yea,  wherever  we  are,  let 
us  endeavor  to  have  our  conversation  so  worthy  of  the  gospel,  that 
men  may  take  knowledge  of  us  that  we  have  been  with  Jesus. 


A      GUILTY  conscience  is  like  a  whirlpool,  drawing  in  all  to 
itself  which  would  otherwise  pass  by.  Fuller. 


HHHE  character  of  the  soul  is  determined  by  the  character  of  ita 
God. 

p  241 


STRENGTH    OF    CHAKACTER. 

F.    W.  Roberhon,  D.D. 

mistake  strong  feeling  to  be  strong  character.  A  man 
who  bears  all  before  him — before  whose  frown  domestics 
tremble  and  whose  bursts  of  fury  make  the  children  of 
the  house  quake — because  he  has  his  will  obeyed,  and  his  own  way 
in  all  things,  we  call  him  a  strong  man.  The  truth  is,  that  he  is  a 
weak  man ;  it  is  his  passions  that  are  strong :  he,  mastered  by  them, 
is  weak.  You  must  measure  the  strength  of  a  man  by  the  power 
of  the  feelings  he  subdues,  not  by  the  power  of  those  which  subdue 
him.  And  hence  composure  is  very  often  the  highest  result  of 
strength.  Did  we  never  see  a  man  receive  a  flat  grand  insult,  and 
only  grow  a  little  pale  and  then  reply  quietly  ?  That  was  a  man 
spiritually  strong.  Or  did  we  never  see  a  man  in  anguish,  stand  as 
if  carved  out  of  the  solid  rock,  mastering  himself  ?  or  one  bearing 
a  hopeless  daily  trial,  remain  silent  and  never  tell  the  world  what 
it  was  that  cankered  his  home  peace  ?  That  is  strength.  He  who, 
with  strong  passions,  remains  chaste — he  who,  keenly  sensitive,  with 
manly  power  of  indignation  in  him,  can  be  provoked,  yet  can 
restrain  himself  and  forgive — these  are  strong  men,  spiritual  heroes. 


what  we  have  wrought  into  our  characters  during  life  can 
we  take  away  with  us.  Hwnboldt. 


CHABAOTKR,  good   or  bad,  has  a  tendency  to  perpetuate    itself. 

A.  A.  Hodge,  D.  D. 


242 


WORTH    OF    CHARACTER. 

Qeo.   H.    Cotom. 

'HE  two  most  precious  things  this  side  the  grave  are  our 
reputation  and  our  life.  But  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  the 
most  contemptible  whisper  may  deprive  us  of  the  one,  and 
the  weakest  weapon  of  the  other.  A  wise  man,  therefore,  will  be 
more  anxious  to  deserve  a  fair  name  than  to  possess  it,  and  this  will 
teach  him  so  to  live,  as  not  to  be  afraid  to  die. 


HE  purest  treasure  mortal  times  afford 
Is  spotless  Reputation  ;  that  away, 
Men  are  but  gilded  loam,  or  painted  clay. 

Shakespeare. 


EARNESTNESS    OF    PURPOSE. 

Timothy  DwigU,  D.D. 

earnest  men  are  so  few  in  the  world  that  their  very  earnest- 
ness becomes  at  once  the  badge  of  their  nobility ;  and  as  men 
in  a  crowd  instinctively  make  room  for  one  who  seems  eager 
to  force  his  way  through  it,  so  mankind  everywhere  open  their 
ranks  to  one  who  rushes  zealously  toward  some  object  lying  beyond 
them. 


ll/TOUNT  upward  1  Heaven  is  won  by  prayer. 

Be  sober,  for  you  are  not  there  1  Jofvn  Kebfo. 

243 


WANT    OF    DECISION. 

Sidney  Smith. 

GREAT  deal  of  labor  is  lost  to  the  world  for  the  want  of  a 
little  courage.  Every  day  sends  to  their  graves  a  number  of 
obscure  men,  who  have  only  remained  in  obscurity  because 
their  timidity  has  prevented  them  from  making  a  first  effort,  and 
who,  if  they  had  only  been  induced  to  begin,  would  in  all  probability 
have  gone  great  lengths  in  the  career  of  fame.  The  fact  is,  that  in 
doing  anything  in  the  world  worth  doing,  we  must  not  stand  shiver- 
ing on  the  bank,  thinking  of  the  cold  and  danger,  but  jump  in, 
and  scramble  through  as  well  as  we  can.  It  will  not  do  to  be  per 
petually  calculating  risks  and  adjusting  nice  chances  ;  it  did  all  very 
well  before  the  flood,  when  a  man  could  consult  his  friends  upon  an 
intended  publication  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  and  live  to  see 
its  success  for  six  or  seven  centuries  afterward ;  but  at  present  a  man 
waits  and  doubts,  and  consults  his  brother,  and  uncles,  and  his  par- 
ticular friends,  till  one  day  he  finds  that  he  is  sixty-five  years  of  age, 
and  that  he  has  lost  so  much  time  in  consulting  first  cousins  and 
particular  friends,  that  he  has  no  more  time  to  follow  their  advice. 
There  is  so  little  time  for  over-squeamishness  at  present,  that  the 
opportunity  slips  away.  The  very  period  of  life  at  which  a  man 
chooses  to  venture,  if  ever,  is  so  confined  that  it  is  no  bad  rule  to 
preach  up  the  necessity,  in  such  instances,  of  a  little  violence  done 
to  the  f eelings,  and  efforts  made  in  defiance  of  strict  and  sober  cal- 
culations. 


HAT  I  admire  in  Columbus,  is  not  his  having  discovered  a 
world,  but  his  having  gone  to  search  for  it  on  the  faith  of 
an  opinion.  Turgot. 


244 


DON'T    BE    DISCOURAGED. 

fF  a  man  loses  his  property  at  thirty  or  forty  years  of  age,  it  is 
only  a  sharp  discipline  generally,  by  which  later  he  comes  to 
large  success.  If  is  all  folly  for  a  man  or  woman  to  sit  down 
in  mid-life  discouraged.  The  marshals  of  Napoleon  came  to  their 
commander  and  said  :  "  We  have  lost  the  battle  and.  we  are  being 
cut  to  pieces."  Napoleon  took  his  watch  from  his  pocket,  and  said  : 
"  It  is  only  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  You  have  lost  the  battle, 
but  we  have  time  to  win  another.  Charge  upon  the  foe  !"  Let  our 
readers  who  have  been  unsuccessful  thus  far  in  the  battle  of  life  not 
give  up  in  despair.  With  energy  and  God's  blessing  they  may  yet 
win  a  glorious  victory. — Anonymous. 


INFLUENCE. 

Gharle*  Dickens. 

>H.EKE  is  nothing — no,  nothing — beautiful  and  good,  that  dies 
and  is  forgotten.  An  infant,  a  prattling  child,  dying  in  its 
cradle,  will  live  again  in  the  better  thoughts  of  those  who 
loved  it,  and  play  its  part,  though  its  body  be  burned  to  ashes  or 
drowned  in  the  deepest  sea.  There  is  not  an  angel  added  to  the 
hosts  of  heaven,  but  does  its  blessed  work  on  earth  in  those  who 
loved  it  here.  Dead !  Oh,  if  the  good  deeds  of  human  creatures 
could  be  traced  to  their  source,  how  beautiful  would  even  death 
appear !  for  how  much  charity,  mercy  and  purified  affection  would 
be  seen  to  have  their  growth  in  dusty  graves  I 

245 


EAUTHLY    INFLUENCE. 

Thomas  Oarlyk. 

is  a  high,  solemn,  almost  awful  thought  for  every  individual 
man,  that  his  earthly  influence,  which  has  a  commencement, 
will  never,  through  all  ages,  have  an  end !  What  is  done  is 
done,  has  already  blended  itself  with  the  boundless,  ever-living, 
ever-working  universe,  and  will  work  there  for  good  or  evil,  openly 
or  secretly,  throughout  all  the  time.  The  life  of  every  man  is  as 
the  well-spring  of  a  stream,  whose  small  beginnings  are  indeed 
plain  to  all,  but  whose  course  and  destination,  as  it  winds  through 
the  expanses  of  infinite  years,  only  the  Omniscient  can  discern. 

Will  it  mingle  with  the  neighboring  rivulets  as  a  tributary,  or 
receive  them  as  their  sovereign  ?  We  know  not :  only  in  either  case 
we  know  its  path  is  to  the  great  ocean ;  its  waters,  were  they  but  a 
handful,  are  here  and  cannot  be  annihilated  or  permanently  held 
back. 


POWER    OF    INFLUENCE. 

F.   W.  Fafor. 

tUK  many  deeds,  the  thoughts  that  we  have  thought, 

/    They  go  out  from  us  thronging  every  hour ; 
And  in  them  all  is  folded  up  a  power 
That  OR  the  earth  doth  move  them  to  and  fro  ; 
And  mighty  are  the  marvels  they  have  wrought, 
In  hearts  we  know  not,  and  may  never  know. 

246 


THE    POWEB    OF    INFLUENCE. 

%fjNFLUENCE  is  the  power  we  exert  over  others  by  our  thoughts, 
5|[  words,  and  actions — by  our  lives,  in  short.  It  is  a  silent,  a 
*^®  pervading,  a  magnetic,  and  a  most  wonderful  thing.  It  works 
in  inexplicable  ways.  "We  neither  see  nor  hear  it,  yet,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  we  exert  it.  No  one  can  think  or  speak,  or  act — 
no  one  can  live — without  influencing  others.  "We  all  sometimes 
seem  unconscious  of  this  very  important  fact,  and  appear  to  have 
adopted  the  strange  idea  that  what  we  do,  or  think,  or  say,  can  affect 
no  one  but  ourselves.  You  influence  others  and  mould  their  charac- 
ters and  destinies  for  time  and  for  eternity  far  more  extensively  than 
you  imagine.  The  whole  truth  in  this  matter  might  flatter  you  ;  it 
would  certainly  astonish  you  if  you  could  once  grasp  it  in  its  full 
proportions.  It  was  a  remark  of  Samuel  J.  Mills  that  "  No  young 
man  should  live  in  the  nineteenth  century  without  making  his  influ- 
ence felt  around  the  globe."  At  first  thought  that  seems  a  heavy 
contract  for  any  young  man  to  take.  As  we  come  to  apprehend 
more  clearly  the  immutable  laws  of  God's  moral  universe  we  find 
that  this  belting  of  the  globe  by  his  influence  is  just  what  every 
responsible  being  does — too  often,  alas,  unconsciously.  You  have 
seen  the  telephone,  that  wonderful  instrument  which  so  accurately 
transmits  the  sound  of  the  human  voice  90  many  miles.  How  true 
it  is  that  all  these  wonderful  modern  inventions  are  only  faint  reflec- 
tions of  some  grand  and  eternal  law  of  the  moral  universe  of  God ! 
God's  great  telephone — I  say  it  reverently — is  everywhere — filling 
earth  and  air  and  sea,  and  sending  round  the  world  with  unerring 
accuracy,  and  for  a  blessing  or  a  curse,  every  thought  of  your  heart, 

247 


THE    POWER    OF    INFLUENCE. 

every  word  that  falls  thoughtfully  or  thoughtlessly  from  your  lips, 
and  every  act  you  do.  It  is  time  you  awoke  to  the  conviction  that, 
whether  you  would  have  it  so  or  not,  your  influence  is  world-wide 
for  good  or  for  evil.  Which  ? 

There  is  another  immense  fact  which  you  or  I  may  as  well  look 
squarely  in  the  face.  An  wiftuence  never  dies.  Once  born  it  lives 
forever.  In  one  of  his  lyrics,  Longfellow  beautifully  illustrates  this 
great  truth : 

"  I  shot  an  arrow  in  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where  ; 
*  *  *  *  * 

I  breathed  a  song  into  the  air, 
It  fell  on  earth,  I  knew  not  where ; 
***** 
Long,  long  afterwards,  in  an  oak 
I  found  the  arrow,  still  unbroke ; 
And  the  song,  from  beginning  to  end, 
I  found  again  in  the  heart  of  a  friend." 

No  thought,  no  word,  no  act  of  man  ever  dies.  They  are  as 
immortal  as  his  own  soul.  He  will  be  sure  to  find  them  written 
somewhere.  Somewhere  in  this  world  he  will  meet  their  fruits  in 
part ;  somewhere  in  the  future  life  he  will  meet  their  gathered  har- 
vest. It  may,  and  it  may  not,  be  a  pleasant  one  to  look  upon. 

An  influence  not  only  lives  for  ever,  but  it  keeps  on  growing  as 
long  as  it  lives.  There  never  comes  a  time  when  it  reaches  its 
maturity  and  when  its  growth  is  arrested.  The  influence  which  you 
start  into  life  to-day  in  the  family,  the  neighborhood,  or  the  social 
circle,  is  perhaps  very  small  now,  very  little  cared  for  now ;  but  it 
will  roll  forward  through  the  ages,  growing  wider  and  deeper  and 
stronger  with  every  passing  hour,  and  blighting  or  blessing  as  it 
rolls. —  Clvristum  Weekly. 

248 


PERPETUITY    OF    INFLUENCE. 

J.  0.  WMttier, 

OTHING  fails  of  its  end.    Out  of  sight  sinks  the  stone, 
In  the  deep  sea  of  time,  bnt  the  circles  sweep  on, 
Till  the  low-rippled  murmurs  along  the  shores  run, 
And  the  dark  and  dead  waters  leap  glad  in  the  sun. 


DOING     GOOD. 

Richard  Penrotf. 

>ET  some  noble  deed  be  thine 
Before  the  day  is  ended  ; 
Ere  the  sun  doth  cease  to  shine, 
Ere  on  thy  bed  thou  dost  recline, 
Go  where  the  fevered  brow  doth  pine, 
And  see  its  wants  attended, 
And  learn  that  in  its  restless  dream 
It  craves  the  pure  and  limpid  stream, 
And  know  that  in  its  fitful  madness 
It  drains  the  cooling  draught  with  gladneas ; 
And  the  parched  lips  will  bless  thee 
For  the  deed  of  kindness  shown, 
While  some  other  tongue  will  tell  thee 
'Twas  not  done  to  one  alone  ; 
For  an  Eye  that  never  sleepeth 
Beheld  the  action  from  his  throne. 

Let  some  tearful  eye  be  dried 
Before  the  day  is  ended ; 

248 


DOUXGt   GOOD. 

Take  the  wanderer  to  thy  side, 

But  his  sad  folly  ne'er  deride ; 

A  multitude  of  sins  thou'lt  hide, 

In  some  poor  soul  befriended, 

And  learn  that  in  his  reckless  race 

Ofttimes  the  pathway  he  will  trace 

To  some  harsh  words,  unkindly  spoken, 

And  which  his  sobbing  heart  hath  broken  ; 

Pour  the  balm  of  consolation ; 

While  the  listening  ear  is  shown, 

Wound  it  not  by  ostentation ; 

Do  thy  Master's  work  alone, 

Remembering  He  ever  keepeth 

A  faithful  record  on  his  throne. 

Let  some  hungry  child  be  fed 
Before  the  day  is  ended ; 
Go !  the  orphan  cries  for  bread, 
Where  squalor  reigns  in  all  its  dread, 
And  where  the  widow's  mournful  tread 
Should  with  thy  steps  be  blended, 
And  see  where  vile  and  misery  haunt, 
Where  shriveled  babe  and  woman  gaunt 
Are  stretched  on  beds  where  filth  is  reeking, 
And  tottering  age  with  ruffians  greeting ; 
Perhaps  a  word  of  thine  may  cheer 
Some  sad  heart  whose  hope  had  flown, 
And  bid  it  cast  aside  its  fear 
For  a  love  before  unknown, 
Seeking  Him  who  ever  meeteth 
A  suppliant  at  Mercy's  throne. 
250 


SYMPATHY    NOT    LOST. 

>HE  look  of  sympathy ;  the  gentle  word, 
Spoken  so  low  that  only  angels  heard  ; 
The  secret  art  of  pure  self-sacrifice, 
Unseen  by  men,  but  marked  by  angel's  eyes ; 
These  are  not  lost. 

The  sacred  music  of  a  tender  strain, 
Wrung  from  a  poet's  heart  by  grief  and  pain, 
And  chanted  timidly,  with  doubt  and  fear, 
To  busy  crowds,  who  scarcely  pause  to  hear : 
This  is  not  lost. 

The  silent  tears  that  fall  at  dead  of  night 
Over  soiled  robes  that  once  were  pure  and  white  ; 
The  prayers  that  rise  like  incense  from  the  sonl, 
Longing  for  Christ  to  make  it  clean  and  whole : 
These  are  not  lost. 

The  happy  dreams  that  gladdened  all  our  youth, 
When  dreams  had  less  of  self  and  more  of  truth  ; 
The  childhood's  faith,  so  tranquil  and  so  sweet, 
Which  sat  like  Mary  at  the  Master's  feet : 
These  are  not  lost 

The  kindly  plans  devised  for  others'  good, 
So  seldom  guessed,  so  little  understood  : 
261 


TRIALS. 

The  quiet,  steadfast  love  that  strove  to  win 
Some  wanderer  from  the  ways  of  sin ; 
These  are  not  lost. 

Not  lost,  O  Lord !  for  in  thy  city  bright 
Our  eyes  shall  see  the  past  by  clearer  light, 
And  things  long  hidden  from  our  gaze  below 
Thou  wilt  reveal,  and  we  shall  surely  know 

They  were  not  lost. — Anonymous. 


TEIALS. 

come  in  a  thousand  different  forms,  and  as  many 
avenues  are  open  to  their  approach.  They  come  from  phys- 
ical appetities,  aesthetic  tastes,  social  habits,  bodily  ills,  the 
desire  for  gain,  the  love  of  luxury  and  of  ease.  They  come  through 
every  contact  with  the  unrenewed  mind  of  the  world,  and  from  the 
assaults  of  Satan.  They  come  with  the  warm  throbbings  of  our 
youthful  lives,  keep  pace  with  the  measured  tread  of  manhood's 
noon,  and  depart  not  from  the  descending  footsteps  of  decrepitude 
and  age.  "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,"  should  ever  remind  us  of 
our  utter  weakness  and  absolute  dependence  upon  Almighty  support 
But  we  may  not  hope  to  be  entirely  free  from  either  disciplinary 
trial  or  the  fiery  darts  of  the  enemy,  until  we  reach  that  land  into 
which  shall  enter  nothing  that  deceiveth  or  maketh  a  lie. 

'  *  Courage,  my  soul ;  thy  bitter  cross 

In  every  trial  here, 
Shall  bear  thee  to  thy  heaven  above, 
But  shall  not  enter  there." 

— Anonymous. 

262 


TRIALS,   A    TEST    OF    CHARACTER. 

Wm.  Morley  Puruhan,  LL.D. 

are  all  the  efforts  of  slander,  permanently  to  injure  the 
fame  of  a  good  man!  There  is  a  cascade  in  a  lovely 
Swiss  valley  which  the  fierce  winds  catch  and  scatter  so 
Boon  as  it  pours  over  the  summit  of  the  rock,  and  for  a  season  the 
continuity  of  the  fall  is  broken,  and  you  see  nothing  but  a  feathery 
wreath  of  apparently  helpless  spray ;  but  if  you  look  further  down 
the  consistency  is  recovered,  and  the  Staubbach  pours  its  rejoicing 
waters  as  if  no  breeze  had  blown  at  all.  Nay,  the  blast  which 
interrupts  it  only  fans  it  into  more  marvelous  loveliness,  and 
makes  it  a  shrine  of  beauty  where  all  pilgrim  footsteps  travel  And 
BO  the  blasts  of  calumny,  howl  they  ever  so  fiercely  over  the  good 
man's  head,  contribute  to  his  juster  appreciation  and  to  his  wider 
fame.  What  are  circumstances, — I  wonder,  that  they  should  hinder 
a  true  man  when  his  heart  is  set  within  him  to  do  a  right  thing  1 
Let  a  man  be  firmly  principled  in  his  religion,  he  may  travel 
from  the  tropics  to  the  poles,  it  will  never  catch  cold  on  the  jour- 
ney. Set  him  down  in  the  desert,  and  just  as  the  palm  tree  thrusts 
its  roots  beneath  the  envious  sand  in  search  of  sustenance,  he  will 
manage  somehow  to  find  living  water  there.  Banish  him  to  the 
dreariest  Patmos  you  can  find,  he  will  get  a  grand  Apocalypse 
among  its  barren  crags.  Thrust  him  into  an  inner  prison,  and 
make  his  feet  fast  in  the  stocks,  the  doxology  will  reverberate 
through  the  dungeon,  making  such  melody  within  its  walls  of  stone 
that  the  jailer  shall  relapse  into  a  man,  and  the  prisoners  hearing  it 
shall  dream  of  freedom  and  of  home. 

253 


ELEMENTS    OF    SUCCESS    IN    LIFE. 

A.  D.  P. 

brilliant  students  gather  into  our  seminary  halls  who 
disappoint  the  ardent  hopes  of  friends.  One  of  the  most 
prominent  sources  of  failure  is  a  trust  in  genius,  and  a  for- 
getting the  necessities  of  labor.  In  my  seminary  days  I  remember 
few  students  who  gave  promise  of  success,  but  that  prated  of  genius, 
and  relied  upon  genius  as  a  power  that  was  to  carry  them,  as  poets, 
as  lawyers,  as  preachers,  up  to  the  world's  gaze,  and  no  doubt  many 
an  old  student  is  plodding  in  the  dust  to-day  who  is  just  beginning 
to  find  out  that  what  we  call  genius  was  only  an  ignis  fatuus.  A 
desire  to  be  somewhat,  was  mistaken  for  the  power  to  do.  They  are 
just  beginning  to  find  out  that  desire ;  that  ardent  aspiration  is  not 
power,  and  we  are  beginning  to  go  to  the  true  sources  of  strength. 
Years  are  wasted,  but  it  may  not  yet  be  too  late,  O  ardent-souled 
alumnus,  to  rise !  "  Shut  a  man  alone  from  the  world,  bookless  and 
friendless,  he  will  write  thoughts  of  power."  That  was  my  faith  • 
now  I  receive  as  my  creed  the  thought  that  the  truest  genius  is  the 
genius  of  hard  work.  In  most  cases  what  is  termed  bright-eyed 
genius,  is  the  student's  evil  genius,  the  real  siren  that  sings  amid 
the  rocks  along  the  student's  sail-way  to  deceive  hia  soul  into  false 
hopes!  O  oblivion!  oblivion!  how  many  brilliant  students  hast 
thou  embosomed  in  thy  waters,  who  verily  thought  the  lightness  of 
their  bodies  would  carry  them  gaily  on  the  stream,  forgetting  that 
all  people  must  make  endeavor  to  swim,  or  else  consent  to  sink 
beneath  thy  silent  waves ! 

We  read  the  lives  of  poets,  learning  how  they  wrote,  but  seek  no 

254 


ELEMENTS     OP     SUCCESS    IN    LIPB. 

power  for  ourselves,  and  write  no  poetry.  "We  become  inspired  by 
the  lives  of  heroes,  bnt  perform  no  heroic  acts.  We  listen  to  tale* 
of  the  miners  concerning  the  riches  of  the  inner  world,  and  vainly 
dream  that  these  are  to  come  at  our  bidding,  but  we  delve  not  in  the 
mines.  The  most  common  kind  of  originality  and  genius  is  that 
which  makes  good  use  of  ideas,  let  them  come  from  what  source 
they  may.  Genius  is  the  power  which  makes  good  use  of  knowl- 
edge, and  presents  old  truths  in  a  new  light.  In  each  new  adjust- 
ment the  kaleidoscope  exhibits  new  beauties ;  so  the  true  man,  with 
ardent  study,  adjusts  and  re-adjusts  old  thoughts,  and  what  we  call 
genius  is,  as  the  country  parson  has  it,  the  "  successful  putting  of 
hings."  If  one  would  be  a  true  poet,  or  orator,  he  must  have 
matter,  and  to  get  this  he  must  leave  for  awhile  these  poets  and 
these  poets'  lives,  and  go  down  into  the  under-world,  and  behold  the 
foundation  of  things.  He  must  study  the  first  principles  of  wisdom, 
strict  reasonings  on  the  human  mind,  the  deep  and  momentous 
truths  of  the  past  world,  histories,  antiquities,  and  philosophy.  He 
must  leave,  for  a  season,  the  floating  chimeras  of  the  upper  world, 
and  search  the  hidden  depths  of  truth  ;  must  dive  deep  into  his  own 
heart  and  there  trace  motives  and  desires,  and  when  he  is  an  adept 
there  he  may  come  above  ground  and  stalk  abroad  among  the  stu- 
pendous realities  of  the  world. 

The  idea  of  study  does  not  demand  that  we  shall  always  be 
poring  over  books.  A  man  may  study  as  he  lolls  over  a  fish-pole, 
or  lies  beneath  a  tree.  Under  such  circumstances,  often,  a  man's 
best  thoughts  come  to  him.  Because  a  man  to  whom  we  have 
accorded  genius  dashes  off  at  times  great  things,  is  no  sign  there 
was  no  forethought.  Impromptu  thoughts  are  generally  fruits  of 
seeds  before  sown.  The  dashing  off  of  a  fine  poem  is  often  only 
the  outbursting  of  a  volcano  that  has  long  been  seething,  or  the 
overflow  of  a  dam  that  has  long  been  collecting.  The  mighty  river, 

255 


ELEMENTS     OP    SUCCESS    IN    LIFE. 

which  seems  to  have  within  itself  the  elements  of  an  eternal  flow, 
would  soon  dry  up  were  it  not  ever  fed  by  the  founts  and  the  rains 
all  along  its  course.  It  only  pours  into  the  ocean  waters  it  has 
gathered  from  a  thousand  sources. 

Alas,  for  the  many  brilliant  young  ministers  that  fade  after  the 
first  impulses  of  feeling  are  calmed !  I  hardly  remember  one  bril- 
liant young  preacher  that  in  the  end  has  amounted  to  anything. 
But  the  plodders,  the  workers,  are  the  ones  that  rise  and  take 
position.  The  first  blaze  out  like  meteors,  and  soon  are  lost  in  shade ; 
the  second  by  steady  step  make  slow  but  sure  footsteps  on  to  success. 

But  while  matter  and  power  are,  in  great  measure,  things  of 
acquirement,  it  is  true  that  peculiarities  of  nature  or  experience 
give  a  tinge  to  all  the  outgoings  of  our  talents.  This  peculiar  tone 
of  the  soul  is  what  all  the  time  we  have  been  mistaking  for  genius. 
The  spirit  of  earnestness  should  give  tone  to  every  effort,  or  it  will 
be  like  a  tinking  cymbal.  Whatever  we  would  do  well,  we  must 
not  only  do  with  our  intellect,  but  with  our  souls.  Our  preachings 
should  emanate  from  the  brain,  and  pass  through  the  warm  blood 
of  the  heart  to  the  tongue.  Some  of  the  sweetest  strains  of  poe- 
try, and  the  most  pathetic  peals  of  oratory  have  emanated  from 
souls  tinged  by  the  mellow  hues  of  sorrow.  A  man's  own  life  and 
heart-movings  will  make  an  impress  on  all  he  does.  Can  a  poet  or 
orator  paint  remorse  who  has  never  been  in  despair  ?  Can  he  who 
has  never  been  bereaved,  utter  true  words  of  sympathy  in  a 
parent's  ear  as  that  parent  weeps  over  the  tomb?  True  poetry 
possesses  a  kind  of  divine  despair — can  a  heart  pour  it  forth  that 
ias  never  known  the  divine  frenzy? 

"  The  grape  must  be  crushed  before 

Can  be  gathered  the  glorious  wine  ; 
So  the  poet's  heart  must  be  wrung  to  the  core 
Ere  his  song  can  be  divine." 
256 


ELEMENTS     OF    SUCCESS    IN    LIFE. 

Have  you  read  Poe's  Raven — that  grandest  American  poem, 
which  with  a  weird  power  deals  with  the  most  momentous  hopes  of 
a  human  soul?  Poe  has  printed  a  statement  that  the  poem  was 
the  result  of  mechanical  effort ;  but  to  a  friend  who  related  to  me 
the  fact,  Poe  communicated  what  we  are  ready  to  receive  as  a  truth, 
the  statement  that  the  poem  is  a  recital  of  a  real  experience  when 
within  him  hope  was  in  terrible  conflict  with  despair,  in  which  con- 
flict, alas !  despair  comes  off  victor.  Poe's  talents,  not  his  genius, 
wrote  the  Raven;  Poe's  heart,  with  anguish  wrung,  gave  it  its 
peculiar  pathos.  .  .  .  . 

When  Summerfield  was  on  his  dying  bed,  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  if 
I  might  be  raised  again,  how  I  could  preach ;  I  could  preach  as  I 
never  have  preached  before ;  I  have  had  a  look  into  eternity." 

One  more  truth  let  me  impress  upon  you,  namely :  There  is  little 
greatness  that  is  worth  the  name,  that  is  not  founded  upon  and  ac- 
companied by  sound,  moral,  Christian  principle.  How  poor,  how 
vain,  how  unreliable  the  acquirements  of  men,  if  no  religious  prin- 
ciple gives  tone  to  the  impulses!  How  many  have  I  known  who 
gave  brilliant  promise,  who  have  dazzled  only  to  disappoint  us  because 
beneath  all  outside  grandeur  there  was  the  cankering  influence  of  a 
corrupt  heart.  Mankind  have  two  wings — one  the  love  of  woman, 
the  other  faith  in  religion  ;  the  breaking  of  either  will  leave  a  man 
an  unsymmetrical,  lop-sided  creature.  One  of  the  most  common 
errors  we  fall  into  in  our  ardent  vigor  and  youthful  wisdom,  is  to 
throw  aside  religion  as  a  thing  beneath  us,  forgetting  it  is  a  thing 
about  and  above  us.  .... 

Our  free-school  system,  the  maker  of  innumerable  men  ;  our  col- 
leges, the  conservators  of  a  higher  style  of  thought ;  our  charters  of 
liberty — all  that  we  extol  in  our  land,  are  outgrowths  of  Christian 
principle,  or  off  springs  of  Christian  hearts.  Wherever  the  star- 
•«pangled  banner  with  its  star-gems,  like  angel-eyes  peering  down  as 

257 


ELEMENTS     OF    SUCCESS    IN    LIFE. 

watching  sentinels,  has  waved,  there,  though  often  invisible,  has 
waved  the  banner  of  the  Cross,  bearing  aloft  the  noble  sentence, 
Through  this  conquer  /  . 

All  the  callings  of  life  have  need  of  men ;  and  men  are  found 
in  all  the  callings  of  life.  If  you  ask  what  places  are  vacant  in 
professional  life,  I  answer  there  are  plenty  of  vacant  places  on  the 
higher  seats.  There  are  plenty  of  common  lawyers;  there  are  a 
plenty  of  ordinary  physicians ;  there  is  an  over-stock  of  mediocre 
preachers,  but  those  who  stand  on  the  higher  platforms  are  few. 
The  hill  of  fame  which,  in  some  sense,  is  synonymous  with  the  hill 
of  success,  is  a  tall  and  tapering  cone,  having,  like  pictorial  represen- 
tations of  the  temple  of  Belus  at  Babylon,  a  pathway  winding  round 
and  round,  terrace  above  terrace,  upward.  Crowds  set  out  for  the 
top  and  along  the  lower  terraces  multitudes  crowd  the  way ;  but  as 
you  look  up  the  company  becomes  thinner,  till  we  behold  a  few 
daring  strugglers  going  up,  up,  up !  and  a  still  smaller  number  stand- 
ing on  the  apex.  Friends,  if  you  are  in  want  of  places,  go  up  to  the 
higher  terraces  of  the  pyramid  of  success.  Alexander  Selkirk,  on  liis 
lonely  isle,  could  easily  sing, 

"  I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey," 
For  he  could  also  sing, 

"  My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute." 

But  an  alumnus  of  to-day  goes  forth  to  join  in  the  struggle  with  one 
hundred  thousand  students  who  are  striving  to  get  upon  the  thrones  I 
Yet,  nevertheless,  there  is  always  room  on  the  higher  seats,  and 
again  I  say,  go  up  I 


"pKESS  on !  for  it  is  God-like  to  unloose  the  spirit  and  forget  your- 
self in  thought.  N.  P.  WMi*. 

258 


AMBITION. 

MBITION,  the  greatest  incentive  to  advancement  and  civiliza- 
tion; the  greatest  teacher  of  morality  and  wisdom;  the 
foundation  of  truth  and  virtue,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
instrument  of  crime  and  iniquity ;  the  instigator  of  intemperance 
and  rashness ;  is  divided  into  two  classes,  godly  and  ungodly,  the 
latter  of  which  was  created  in  Heaven. 

We  suppose  that  Heaven  is  a  place  of  eternal  bliss  and  happiness, 
and  we  have  no  reason  to  think  otherwise,  yet  we  learn  from  the 
Bible  that  God  allowed  Satan,  who  was  once  an  angel  in  Heaven, 
to  be  subjected  to  temptation.  For  what  reason  we  know  not,  and 
it  is  not  expedient  for  us  to  dwell  upon  the  propriety  of  such  an 
act,  unless  we  may  become  skeptical.  We  are  not  competent  to 
criticise  the  doings  of  our  Maker.  It  is  simply  for  us  to  know  that 
Satan  was  the  sad  victim  of  this  ungodly  ambition.  He  was  so 
ambitious  that  he  desired  to  be  upon  a  level  with  God,  and  on 
account  of  his  sin  he  was  cast  out  of  Heaven  into  everlasting  dark- 
ness. 

When  Adam  and  Eve  were  created,  Satan,  who  had  become  a  bit- 
ter enemy  to  God,  commenced  to  go  about  the  earth  with  the  malic- 
ious determination  of  robbing  Heaven  of  the  sons  of  men.  He  first 
came  to  Eve,  the  weaker  of  the  two  in  the  garden  of  "  Eden,"  with 
the  same  stumbling-block  over  which  he  fell.  He  well  knew  that 
if  the  angels  in  Heaven  were  not  able  to  resist  such  a  temptation, 
Eve  would  certainly  yield  to  that  which  would  cause  her  own 
destruction.  And  great  was  the  success  of  his  first  temptatioy 
which  he  threw  upon  the  path  of  mankind,  for  Eve,  burning  witD 

259 


AMBITION. 

the  eager  desire  of  being  a  goddess,  ate  with  Adam  the  forbidaon 
fruit,  and  fell. 

Hence  this  ambition,  which  was  created  in  Heaven,  and  trans- 
ported to  earth,  has  passed  down  along  the  generations  until  it  has 
attained  its  height. 

Alexander,  who  sat  down  and  wept  because  he  had  no  more 
worlds  to  conquer,  was  cursed  with  this  ambition.  He  fought  with 
no  higher  principles  than  the  love  of  glory,  and  military  honors. 
He  fought  not  so  much  in  the  defense  of  his  country,  but  went  into 
foreign  lands  and  burned  cities,  made  widows  and  orphans,  and 
robbed  proud  mothers  of  their  sons,  to  satisfy  the  thirst  for  fame. 

Caesar  was  upon  the  same  footing  with  Alexander,  in  this  respect, 
and  thousands  of  others  have  lived,  and  thousands  live  to-day  who 
are  the  unfortunate  possessors  of  this  ambition. 

There  is  no  lack  of  such  examples.  We  know  that  the  harvest 
of  just  ambition  is  success.  She  laughs  at  discouragements.  In- 
stead of  being  weakened  by  misfortunes,  she  is  strengthened. 
The  way  to  success  may  be  strewn  with  impediments,  but  have 
ambition  as  your  guide  and  she  will  clear  the  way  of  all  obstacles. 

The  height  of  ambition  is  Heaven.  It  was  the  intention  of  our 
Maker  that  this  world  should  be  a  world  of  probation.  We  were 
not  created  to  live  and  die  as  do  the  inferior  animals,  but  we  have 
been  born  for  a  higher  and  a  nobler  state.  Although  we  are  desir- 
ous of  leaving  a  blank  at  our  death,  which  the  world  cannot  fill ;  yet 
to  what  does  all  this  amount  ?  Life  is  short  at  the  longest, — a 
moment  compared  to  eternity.  Then  when  we  are  ambitious  for  the 
things  pertaining  to  this  life,  let  us  not  forget  the  great  hereafter. 


r  I  \hLtt  drying  up  a  single  tear  has  more 

Of  honest  fame  than  shedding  seas  of  gore.      Byron,. 

260 


A    WORTHY    AMBITION. 

John  B.    O&ugh. 

?OIJNG  man  I  if  God  has  given  you  brains,  heart  and  voice, 
speak  out.  There  are  great  reforms  to  be  carried  on.  The 
whole  nation  needs  awakening.  Speak  out,  sir,  and  your 
speech  will  be  welcome,  wherever  and  on  whatever  particular  branch 
of  reforms  you  choose  to  make  yourself  heard.  Lift  up  your  voice 
for  that  which  is  "  honest,  lovely  and  of  good  report."  Not  in  mere 
wordy  harangue,  not  in  windy  palaver,  not  in  grandiloquent  spouting, 
nor  in  weary,  drawling  verbosity — not  in  the  jabbering  garrulity 
which  is  heard  only  when  the  speaker  must  be  delivered  of  a  speech. 
But  in  words  of  true,  sanctified  earnestness,  opening  your  mouth 
because  yon  have  something  useful  to  say,  saying  it  with  the  gen- 
nine,  unstudied  eloquence  which  comes  right  from  the  heart,  and  in 
all  cases  closing  your  mouth  the  moment  you  have  done. 


i8  no*  what  men  eat  but  what  they  digest,  that  makes  them 
strong ;  not  what  we  gain,  but  what  we  save  that  makes  us 
rich ;  not  what  men  read,  but  what  they  remember  that 
makes  them  learned  ;  and  not  what  we  preach  but  what  we  practise 
that  makes  us  Christians.  These  are  great  but  common  truths, 
often  forgotten  by  the  glutton,  the  spendthrift,  the  book-worm  and 
the  hypocrite.  Lord  Bacon. 


have  not  wings — we  cannot  soar, 

But  we  have  feet  to  scale  and  climb, 
By  slow  degrees,  by  more  and  more, 

The  cloudy  summits  of  our  time.         Longfellow. 

261 


MATH?    HOME    LIFE    BEAUTIFUL. 

Prof.  B.  G.  Northrop. 

I~^  me  say  to  parents:  Make  the  home-life  beautiful,  with- 
$  out  and  within,  and  they  will  BOW  the  seeds  of  gentleness, 
true  kindness,  honesty,  and  fidelity  in  the  hearts  of  their 
children,  from  which  the  children  reap  a  harvest  of  happiness  and 
virtue.  The  memory  of  the  beautiful  and  happy  home  of  childhood 
is  the  richest  legacy  any  man  can  leave  to  his  children.  The  heart 
will  never  forget  its  hallowed  influences.  It  will  be  an  evening 
enjoyment,  to  which  the  lapse  of  years  will  only  add  new  sweetness. 
Such  a  home  is  a  constant  inspiration  for  good  and  as  constant  a 
restraint  from  evil. 

If  by  taste  and  culture  we  adorn  our  homes  and  grounds  and  add 
to  their  charms,  our  children  will  find  the  quiet  pleasures  of  rural 
homes  more  attractive  than  the  whirl  of  city  life.  Such  attractions 
and  enjoyments  will  invest  home-life,  school-life,  the  whole  future  of 
life  with  new  interests  and  with  new  dignity  and  joyousness,  for  life 
is  just  what  we  make  it.  We  may  by  our  blindness  live  in  a  world 
of  darkness  and  gloom,  or  in  a  world  full  of  sunlight  and  beauty  and 
joy ;  for  the  world  without  only  reflects  the  world  within.  Also  the 
tasteful  improvement  of  grounds  and  home  exerts  a  good  influence 
not  only  upon  the  inmates,  but  upon  the  community.  An  elegant 
dwelling,  surrounded  by  sylvan  attractions,  is  a  contribution  to  the 
refinement,  the  good  order,  the  taste,  and  prosperity  of  every  com 
munity,  improving  the  public  taste  and  ministering  to  every  enjoy- 
ment. On  the  other  hand,  people  who  are  content  to  dwell  in  huti 
and  cellars  grow  barbarous  in  their  ideas.  They  become  dirty  and 
ragged  in  their  dress,  uncouth  in  manner,  coarse  in  habits,  brutal  in 

262 


WOMAN    AT    HOME. 


character,  without  aspiration  for  a  better  life.  There  can  be  no  pro- 
gress in  civilization  but  improvement  in  their  homes  and  ground* 
accompanies,  if  it  does  not  directly  produce  the  advance  in  civiliza- 
tion. Improvements,  a  beautiful  village,  a  fine  park,  are  effective 
instruments  of  civilization  and  education,  and  there  is  protection,  as 
well  as  education,  in  a  fervent  love  of  improvement,  with  its  multi- 
tude of  associations.  Attachment  to  one's  native  soil  is  an  antidote 
to  the  restless,  roaming,  and  migratory  spirit  of  our  youth,  as  well  aa 
safe-guard  from  temptation.  Nobody  without  local  attachment  can 
have  genuine  patriotism. 


WOMAN    AT    HOME. 

T.  Da  Witt  Talmage. 

God,  O  woman  !  for  the  quietude  of  your  home,  and 
that  you  are  queen  in  it.  Men  come  at  eventide  to  the 
home ;  but  all  day  long  you  are  there,  beautifying  it,  sancti- 
fying it,  adorning  it,' blessing  it.  Better  be  there  than  wear  Vic- 
toria's coronet.  Better  be  there  than  carry  the  purse  of  a  princess. 
It  may  be  a  very  humble  home.  There  may  be  no  carpet  on  the 
floor.  There  may  be  no  pictures  on  the  wall.  There  may  be  no 
silks  in  the  wardrobe ;  but,  by  your  faith  in  God,  and  your  cheerful 
demeanor,  you  may  garniture  that  place  with  more  splendor  than 

• 

the  upholsterer's  hand  ever  kindled. 


To  be  womanly  is  the  greatest  charm  of  woman. 

Gladstone. 


THE    HOMESTEAD. 

Phosb«  Gary. 

the  old  squire's  dwelling,  gloomy  and  grand, 
Stretching  away  on  either  hand, 
Lie  fields  of  broad  and  fertile  land. 

Acres  on  acres  everywhere     * 

The  look  of  smiling  plenty  wear, 

That  tells  of  the  master's  thoughtful  care. 

Here  blossoms  the  clover,  white  and  red, 
Here  the  heavy  oats  in  a  tangle  spread, 
And  the  millet  lifts  her  golden  head  ; 

And,  ripening,  closely  neighbored  by 
Fields  of  barley  and  pale  white  rye, 
The  yellow  wheat  grows  strong  and  high. 

And  near,  untried  through  the  summer  days, 
Lifting  their  spears  in  the  sun's  fierce  blaze, 
Stand  the  bearded  ranks  of  the  maize. 

Straying  over  the  side  of  the  hill, 
Here  the  sheep  run  to  and  fro  at  will, 
Nibbling  of  short  green  grass  their  fill. 

Sleek  cows  down  the  pasture  take  their  ways, 
Or  lie  in  the  shade  through  the  sultry  days, 
Idle,  and  too  full-fed  to  graze. 
364 


THE     HOMESTEAD. 

All !  you  might  wander  far  and  wide, 
Nor  find  a  spot  in  the  country's  side 
So  fair  to  see  as  our  valley's  pride ! 

How,  just  beyond,  if  it  win  not  tire 
Your  feet  to  climb  this  green  knoll  higher, 
We  can  see  the  pretty  village  spire ; 

And,  mystic  haunt  of  the  whippoorwilla, 
The  wood,  that  all  the  background  filla, 
Crowning  the  tops  to  the  mill-creek  hills. 

There,  miles  away,  like  a  faint  blue  line, 
Whenever  the  day  is  clear  and  fine, 
You  can  see  the  track  of  a  river  shine. 

Near  it  a  city  hides  unseen, 

Shut  close  the  verdant  hills  between, 

As  an  acorn  set  in  its  cup  of  green. 

And  right  beneath,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
The  little  creek  flows  swift  and  still, 
That  turns  the  wheel  of  Dovecote  mill. 

Nearer  the  grand  old  house  one  sees 

Fair  rows  of  thrifty  apple-trees, 

And  tall  straight  pears  o'ertopping  these. 

And  down  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  low, 
On  a  rustic  bench,  a  pretty  show, 
White  bee-hives,  standing  in  a  row. 

Here  trimmed  in  sprigs,  with  blossoms,  each 

Of  the  little  bees  in  easy  reach, 

Hang  the  boughs  of  the  plum  and  peach. 

266 


THE     HOMESTEAD. 

At  the  garden's  head  are  poplars  tall, 

And  peacocks,  making  their  harsh,  loud  call, 

Sun  themselves  all  day  on  the  wall. 

And  here  you  will  find  on  every  hand 
Walks  and  fountains  and  statues  grand, 
And  trees  from  many  a  foreign  land. 

And  flowers,  that  only  the  learned  can  name, 
Here  glow  and  burn  like  a  gorgeous  flame, 
Putting  the  poor  man's  blooms  to  shame. 

Far  away  from  their  native  air 

The  Norway  pines  their  green  dress  wear ; 

And  larches  swing  their  long,  loose  hair. 

Near  the  porch  grows  the  broad  catalpa  tree, 
And  o'er  it  the  grand  wistaria 
Born  to  the  purple  of  royalty. 

There  looking  the  same  for  a  weary  while — 
'Twas  built  in  this  heavy,  gloomy  style—- 
Stands the  mansion,  a  grand  old  pile. 

Always  closed,  as  it  is  to-day, 

And  the  proud  squire,  so  the  neighbors  say, 

Frowns  each  unwelcome  guest  away. 

Though  some,  who  knew  him  long  ago, 
If  you  ask,  will  shake  their  heads  of  enow, 
And  tell  you  he  was  not  always  so, 

Though  grave  and  quiet  at  any  time, 
But  that  now,  his  head  in  manhood's  prime, 
Is  growing  white  as  the  winter's  rime. 
266 


HOME. 

T.  Do  Witt  Taknage. 

li|ffF  yon  wanted  to  gather  up  all  tender  memories,  all  lights  and 
Jj[  shadows  of  the  heart,  all  banquetings  and  reunions,  all  filial, 
*®  fraternal,  paternal,  conjugal  affections,  and  had  only  just  four 
letters  with  which  to  spell  out  that  height  and  depth  and  length 
and  breadth  and  magnitude  and  eternity  of  meaning,  yon  would 
write  it  all  out  with  these  four  capital  letters :  H-O-M-E. 


THE    POWER    OF    KINDNESS. 

Wm.  Morley  Punthon,  LL.D. 

[UNGER  and  want  are  conditions  surely  of  extremest  need,  and 
a  word  of  kindness  in  such  a  strait  is  welcome  as  the  smile  of 
an  angel,  for  it  may  redeem  from  hopelessness  and  despair, 
and  a  helpful  hand-grasp,  with  something  in  the  hand  the  while,  ii 
worth  a  hundredfold  its  cost,  for  it  may  have  ransomed  for  all 
future  time  the  most  kingly  thing  on  earth,  the  manhood  of  a  man, 
for  industry,  and  society  and  God. 


RULE    OF    CONDUCT. 

Stntoa. 


*|f[  WILL  govern  my  life  and  my  thoughts,  as  if  the  whole  world 
jp  were  to  see  the  one  and  read  the  other ;  for  what  does  it  sig- 
™*  nify,  to  make  anything  a  secret  to  my  neighbor,  when  to  God 
(who  is  the  searcher  of  our  hearts)  all  our  privacies  are  open ! 

267 


FIRESIDE    MUSINGS. 

Ada  A.  Chaff* 
ITTING  where  the  fitful  firelight 

Shines  and  glimmers  on  the  wall, 
Listening  to  the  ceaseless  patter 
Of  the  raindrops  as  they  fall, 
Musing  like  an  idle  dreamer 

While  the  moments  come  and  go, 
Weaving  fancies  sad  and  tender 
Into  now  and  long  ago. 

Fire  1  oh  tell  me,  am  I  sitting 

Lowly  at  the  Master's  feet, 
With  a  filial  heart  accepting 

Joy  and  sorrow,  bitter,  sweet  I 
Sitting  where,  perchance,  a  mission 

Is  to  shed  one  little  ray 
For  a  beacon  to  some  pilgrim 

Groping  for  the  heavenly  way  ? 

Falling  raindrops !  tell  me,  tell  me, 

Do  I  heed  the  still,  small  voice  ? 
Listening  to  the  call  of  duty  ? 

In  the  Saviour's  love  rejoice  \ 
Listening  to  another's  sorrow, 

With  a  hope  to  soothe  the  pain  ? 
Do  I  scatter  love  and  sunshine 

As  the  clouds  the  falling  rain! 
268 


FIRESIDE    MUSINGS. 

Roving  thought  1  oh,  whither,  whither, 

In  thy  musings  dost  thou  speed  ? 
To  some  brother  weary,  toiling, 

That  perhaps  of  aid  has  need  ? 
Seeking  out  the  spirit  wand'ring  f 

Culling  tares  from  golden  grain? 
Pondering  on  Christ's  example, 

That  this  life  be  not  in  vain  ? 

Child  of  earth !  say,  art  thou  weaving 

In  the  tangled  web  of  life 
Something  more  than  tender  fancies — 

Strength  to  brave  the  coming  strife? 
Weaving  in  each  little  duty, 

Better  far  than  wordly  fame, 
Weaving  patience,  love,  forbearance, 

Humbly  in  the  Saviour's  name  ? 

Would  that  we  were  ever  sitting 

Where  we'd  shed  a  steady  light, 
Listening  to  the  voice  of  conscience, 

Constant,  always  to  the  right ; 
Musing  on  that  better  country, 

Free  from  sorrow,  care,  or  blight, 
Where  we'll  weave  our  heav'nly  fancies 

If  while  here  we  weave  aright. 


rpHE  voices  that  spoke  to  me  when  a  child,  are  now  speaking 
through  me  to  the  world.  Bishop  Sim/pson. 


I  WOULD  rather  be  right  than  be  President.  Henry  Clay. 

269 


A    PLEA    FOR    HOME. 

Theodora  L.  Ouyler,  D.D. 

that  the  long  winter  evenings  have  come  again  it  is  a 
good  time  to  put  it  in  a  plea  for  home.  This  is  the  seeding 
season  for  the  mind.  We  have  sometimes  thought  that  one 
reason  whythe  Scottish  people  are  such  readers  and  so  many  of  their 
humblest  cottagers  have  taken  high  rank  intellectually  is  that  their 
winter  evenings  are  so  prodigiously  long  and  afford  such  opportuni- 
ties for  study. 

There  is  no  country  in  the  globe — not  even  excepting  Britain — 
which  contains  more  happy  and  cultured  homes  than  our  own.  The 
Germans  make  much  of  their  domestic  life,  observing  birthdays, 
weddings,  anniversaries,  etc.,  with  abundant  merry-makings.  The 
French  love  cafes  and  crowds.  They  have  not  the  word  "  home  " 
in  their  language  and  not  enough  of  the  thing  itself  in  their  social 
existence.  After  peeping  into  some  of  the  smoky,  ill-furnished 
chalets  of  Switzerland  this  year,  I  could  not  but  feel  a  new  pride 
and  satisfaction  in  the  homes  of  the  American  laborers  and  small 
farmers.  Some  of  the  brightest  and  richest  homes  in  our  land  are 
found  under  the  low,  broad  roof  of  the  Yankee  farm-house.  Look 
in  a  moment  at  the  group  which  glows  in  the  blaze  of  the  hickory 
fire.  The  old  father  is  running  the  sharp  coulter  of  his  mind 
through  a  tough  volume  of  science  or  theology  or  politics  as  steadily 
as  he  put  his  plow  through  a  stiff  sod  last  summer.  Mother  lays 
down  her  knitting  to  read  a  letter  from  the  tall  son  at  Yale  or  Wil- 
liams or  Dartmouth  ;  perhaps  a  letter  from  a  missionary  daughter  in 
the  Orient  or  another  who  is  settled  in  a  Colorado  parsonage.  A 

270 


A    PLEA    FOB    HOME. 

•tack  of  books  loads  the  center-table.  There  is  an  antique  "  sampler" 
on  the  walls,  which  dear*  old  grandma  worked  when  she  was  sweet 
sixteen.  One  of  the  younger  girls  touches  a  lively  tune  from  the 
piano  before  the  winter  evening  is  over.  One  of  the  older  lads  gets 
back  from  the  singing-school  or  an  apple-bee  in  time  for  family 
prayers.  The  old  family  Bible — with  its  chronicle  of  wedlock  and 
births  and  burials — is  read  devoutly ;  and  prayer  puts  its  strong  hem 
around  the  finished  day's  work. 

This  is  no  mere  fancy  picture.  The  real  wealth  and  stability 
and  virtue  and  future  hope  of  our  republic  lie  in  just  such  homes 
of  industry  and  honest  thrift.  The  best  society  roots  there.  The 
church  of  God  has  its  roots  there  too.  If  thousands  of  our  young 
men  in  the  rural  regions  truly  appreciated  the  quiet  joys  and  bless- 
ings of  having  such  a  home  for  themselves  and  their  children,  they 
would  not  be  in  such  hot  haste  to  rush  off  to  the  large  towns  to 
"seek  their  fortunes"  and  find  only  a  precarious  clerkship  and  a 
cold  fourth-story  room  in  a  boarding-house.  If  our  humble  voice 
would  be  heard  and  heeded,  we  would  take  up  Horace  Greeley's  old 
refrain  and  cry  aloud :  "  Stay  out  of  the  cities !  They  are  too  full 
already."  And  of  nothing  are  they  more  full  than  of  evil  haunts, 
broken  expectations,  lost  characters,  and  mined  lives.  But  young 
men  of  ambition  will  pour  into  the  cities  in  spite  of  all  our  notes 
of  warning.  Employers  have  a  duty  to  them  also  which  is  too  sel- 
dom discharged.  It  is  the  duty  of  thinking  about  the  young  clerk, 
or  salesman,  or  book-keeper,  when  the  store,  the  office,  or  the  count- 
ing-room is  locked  up.  Those  young  men  must  either  have  a  home 
or  a— haunt.  Their  evenings  must  be  spent  somewhere.  The 
devil  will  light  up  his  decoy-lamps  all  over  town.  Now  cannot  our 
rich  employers  occasionally  invite  the  young  men  in  their  employ 
to  their  own  residences,  and  thus  strengthen  their  own  influence  and 
put  in  a  new  tether  to  hold  their  young  "  wards  "  to  personal  and 

271 


A    PLEA    FOR    HOME.  % 

social  purity  ?  There  are  no  more  thoroughly  homeless  class  than 
the  thousands  of  youths  from  the  country ;  none  appreciate  more  a 
friendly  invitation  to  the  table  or  the  fireside  of  a  pleasant  home. 
Church  sociables,  prayer  meetings,  Young  Men's  Christian  Associa- 
tions, lectures,  libraries,  etc.,  are  all  excellent  in  their  way.  But  no 
one  of  them  exactly  fills  the  aching  void  and  satisfies  the  hunger 
for  a  glimpse  of  home. 

Business  men  themselves  need  to  be  nudged,  too,  in  regard  to  the 
claims  of  home  and  household.  Many  of  them  live  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  excitement  and  bake  their  daily  bread  in  a  very  hot  oven. 
Many  of  you  need  the  soothing  sedative  and  cooling  of  the  mind 
which  only  a  quiet  home  can  give.  When  affairs  go  prosperously 
with  you,  here  is  an  outlet  for  a  portion  of  your  gains.  Make  yom 
own  homes  attractive.  Indulge  yourself  in  the  luxury  of  cheerful, 
open  fires,  instead  of  black  flues  in  the  floor.  A  glowing  open  fire- 
is  a  "  means  of  grace  "  to  the  children.  It  makes  a  bright  rallying- 
point  for  the  whole  family.  Tom  will  not  be  so  anxious  to  run  off 
to  the  theater,  and  Mary  will  not  be  so  hungry  for  an  invitation  to 
the  ball  or  the  opera,  and  all  the  children  will  feel  the  visible  influ 
ence  of  one  warm,  cheerful  heart-shrine.  Before  that  fire  spend  a* 
many  evenings  as  you  can.  If  a  bad  day's  business  has  made  yon 
sore  and  unhappy,  let  your  daughter's  piano  be  to  your  ruffled  spirit 
what  David's  harp  was  to  the  distempered  mind  of  Saul.  Watch 
your  boy  as  he  piles  his  blocks  on  the  carpet,  and  see  how  easy  i* 
is  to  topple  over  the  most  ambitious  structures  when  they  get  out  of 
the  perpendicular.  Learn  the  lesson  of  some  of  your  own  failures 
from  it,  and  how  to  begin  again  and  pile  better.  A  good  romp 
with  your  children  or  a  half-hour  with  them  over  their  lessons  will 
make  them  love  you  the  more,  and  will  expel  many  a  "  blue  devil " 
that  found  entrance  into  you  during  the  day. 

272 


MAKE    SOME    ONE    HAPPY. 

To  have  such  a  home  you  must  make  it.  The  husband  whf  for- 
sakes his  household  for  his  evening  haunts  elsewhere  does  not 
deserve  to  have  a  home  in  this  world ;  he  materially  lessens  his  hope 
for  a  good  home  in  eternity.  Beshrew  all  clubs !  Every  true  wife 
hates  the  very  name  of  them.  She  is  jealous  of  such  rivals  with  a 
"godly  jealousy."  If  there  was  a  righteous  uprising  of  indignant 
wives  to  make  a  clean  conflagration  of  every  club-house  and  drink- 
ing-haunt  in  our  cities,  I  should  esteem  it  a  noble  exercise  of 
"  women's  rights  "  that  ought  not  to  provoke  the  interference  of  the 
fire  department. 

God  meant,  when  he  made  us,  that  we  should  live  in  families. 
It  is  the  only  way  that  the  two  sexes  can  come  together  without  im- 
pairing virtue  and  purity.  There  is  no  such  school  of  true  religion 
on  the  globe  as  a  happy,  God-fearing  home.  No  church  is  so  effec- 
tive for  restraint  from  evil  and  for  growth  in  all  graces  as  "the 
church  in  the  house"  There  stands  the  domestic  altar.  There 
speaks  the  word  of  truth  and  authority  on  every  day  in  the  whole 
seven.  There  is  felt  a  religion  which  acts  and  molds  from  the  cradle 
clear  on  to  the  judgment-seat.  It  is  a  nursery  for  the  noblest  life. 
It  is  the  earliest,  the  best,  the  surest  preparation  for  the  Home  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens. 


MATTE    SOME    ONE    HAPPY. 

T.  DeWitt  Talmage. 
HAT  is  a  good  day  in  which  you  make  some  one  happy.    It  ia 
astonishing  how  little  it  takes  to  make  one  happy.    Feel  that 
the  day  is  wasted  in  which  you  have  not  succeeded  in  this. 


MAN'S  best  powers  point  him  Godward. 

Spurgeon. 
R  273 


THE    TKIALS    OF    HOME. 

W.  K.  Tweedie,  D.D. 
"  Sorrowing  yet  always  rejoicing." 

HEN  the  first  death  happens  in  a  home  it  speaks  with  a 
voice  which  scarcely  any  other  form  of  tribulation  can 
equal.  We  read  of  wars,  and  battles,  and  thousands  slain, 
but  even  these  are  far-off  echoes  to  most,  compared  with  our  own 
first  death.  That  blow  falls  upon  the  very  heart,  and  though  faith 
may  enable  even  a  mother  to  close  the  dying  eye  of  her  little  one, 
and  smile  through  her  tears,  exclaiming — 

"My  Saviour,  I  do  this  for  the«;" 

yet  nature  may  be  wrung  with  anguish,  even  while  grace  enables 
the  tried  one  to  triumph. 

And  the  pang  is  often  rendered  more  acute,  or  the  stroke  more 
severe,  by  the  inscrutable  mystery  of  a  little  infant's  death.  Why 
the  terrible  convulsions  ?  Why  that  low  wail — that  smothered  cry 
far  worse  for  the  parent  to  bear  than  a  blow?  Why  that  little 
frame  pining  slowly  away,  while  skill  is  baffled  in  its  attempts  to 
discover  the  cause  ?  Why  is  every  breath  a  sigh  or  a  moan,  till  even 
a  mother  sometimes  flees  from  the  sight  and  the  sound,  and  feels 
that  it  would  be  a  relief  could  her  little  sufferer  die  ?  And  when  all 
is  over — when  the  little  one  is  coffined,  and  the  marble  dust  is  about 
to  be  borne  to  the  tomb,  why  that  death  at  all?  That  little  hand 
never  did  sin ;  that  little  heart  never  thought  sin ;  and  why,  then, 
this  living  only  to  die — this  infant  shroud,  that  infant  coffin  and 

274 


THE     TRIALS    OF    HOME. 

grave  ?     Have  my  sins,  a  parent  may  ask,  brought  down  thia  woe  < 
Is  this  the  inquity  of  the  fathers  visited  on  the  children  I 

Of  this,  at  least,  we  are  sure,  "  death  passes  upon  all,  for  that  all 
have  sinned."  "  In  Adam  all  die."  Thus  God  shows  the  mystery, 
and  bids  us,  when  we  cannot  understand,  be  silent  and  adore. 
What  we  know  not  now,  we  shall  know  hereafter ;  and  though  our 
rifled  homes  may  cause  the  heart  to  ache,  yet  if  such  bereavements 
urge  the  parents  more  sedulously  to  prepare  for  glory,  the  present 
tribulation  will  deepen  and  prolong  the  future  hosannas  of  the  tried. 
And  nature  may  symbolically  teach  us  the  same  lesson.  When  we 
enter  a  mist  cloud  as  it  drifts  or  hovers  along  the  mountain-side 
which  we  are  climbing,  it  sometimes  dissolves  around  us  so  that  the 
sunshine  becomes  undimmed.  In  like  manner,  if  not  here,  at  least 
hereafter,  all  the  mist  clouds  will  clear  away  from  before  the  parent 
who  believes.  Concerning  his  children  torn  from  his  embrace  to  the 
toiub,  he  may  learn  to  say, — 

"For  us  they  sicken  and  for  OB  they  die." 

Meanwhile,  could  parents  remember  that  they  are  encountering 
their  cares,  and  weeping  their  tears,  and  bearing  their  cross,  and 
seeing  their  hopes  deferred  to-day,  or  blighted  to-morrow,  while 
attempting  to  train  their  children  for  God,  they  would  be  stimulated 
to  persevere,  and  not  "  faint  in  their  minds." 

But  there  is  one  form  of  grief  more  intense  than  even  this. 
The  trials  which  crowd  our  homes  are  numerous,  and  no  doubt,  one 
of  the  reasons  may  be  that  some  would  make  their  home  their 
heaven.  Their  aJJections  center  there ;  and  their  family  is  the 
Alpha  and  Omega  of  their  exertions,  their  joys,  and  their  hopes. 
Now  to  prevent  such  idolatry,  a  thorn  is  often  placed  in  the  nest, 
and  men  find  labor  and  sorrow  where  they  expected  only  sunshine 
and  smiles.  There  may  be  poverty,  and  that  is  bitter,  or  some  dis- 

275 


THE     TRIALS    OF    HOME. 

aster  may  threaten  to  strip  our  homes  bare,  but  it  is  when  trials 
assume  the  character  of  retributions  that  they  convulse  a  household 
the  most.  It  was  hard  for  David  to  know  that  Absalom  was  no 
more ;  and  that  he  perished  a  rebel  against  his  king  and  father, 
made  the  pang  more  poignant  still.  But  if  that  father  associated 
that  death  with  his  own  home  misdeeds,  his  sorrow  would  be  the 
most  acute  that  man  is  doomed  to  feel.  His  touching  wail,  his 
characteristic  Oriental  outcry  over  his  lost  son,  thus  acquires  a 
deeper  meaning  than  before.  "  Would  God  I  had  died  for  thee," 
becomes  not  merely  pathetic  but  profound.  And  that  is  the  climax 
of  all  anguish — to  see  an  object  of  affection  go  down,  we  fear,  to  a 
darker  home  than  the  grave.  It  is  sad  for  a  widowed  one  to  see 
the  delight  of  her  eyes,  the  husband  of  her  youth,  snatched  away 
by  death.  It  is  agony  to  an  affectionate  family  to  see  the  mother 
who  bore  them,  and  bore  with  them,  carried  to  the  narrow  house. 
But  a  moral  death  causes  a  deeper  wound — a  more  remediless  sor- 
row, and  nothing  but  omnipotent  grace  can  carry  a  sufferer  through 
such  a  grief.  While  he  drinks  "the  wine  of  astonishment"  his 
solace  may  be — "  It  is  the  Lord,"  and  "  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth 
will  do  right."  But  if  the  mourner  find  cause  for  self-accusation 
in  connection  with  his  grief,  his  sorrow  culminates  there,  and  amid 
such  sadness  the  nightfall  of  life  may  often  find  us  weeping  over  the 
errors  of  its  morning.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  our  sorrows  come 
directly  from  another,  our  solace  is  more  easily  found.  It  will  then 
be  the  believer's  endeavor  to  be  silent  where  he  cannot  understand  ; 
and  while  he  prays  for  repentance  to  the  wanderer,  he  himself  will 
forgive,  remembering  that  he  is  what  he  is  only  by  the  grace  of 
God. 

For  all  this  innumerable  company  of  sorrowers,  Christ  pro- 
nounced the  benediction  we  are  speaking  of.  But  we  must  not 
limit  it  to  them.  "  Blessed  are  thev  that  mourn,  over  sin."  Not 


THE     TRIALS    OF    HOME. 

over  its  final  penalty  of  perdition,  but  over  the  hateful  and  Christ- 
wounding  thing  itself.  Genuine  sorrow  over  sin  is  probably  the  one 
heart-grief  which  commands  the  tenderest  symyathy  of  Jesus.  How 
tenderly  He  always  treated  the  penitent — from  that  weeping  woman 
who  bathed  His  feet,  clear  on  to  that  dying  ruffian  who  prayed  to 
him  from  the  adjoining  cross !  There  is  no  heart  in  the  universe 
that  so  sympathizes  with  us  when  we  cry  out  in  contrition  as  the 
heart  of  Calvary's  Redeemer.  No  pain  does  Jesus  look  upon  so 
kindly  as  the  pain  felt  by  the  conscience  over  sin  committed  and  the 
spirit  grieved. 

Selfishness  says  :  "  Cover  sin,"  and  the  sin  thus  covered  up  kills 
like  a  cancer.  Jesus  says :  "  Confess  sin  and  I  will  have  mercy. 
Abandon  sin  and  flee  unto  me !  "  And  never  do  we  draw  so  closely 
to  Jesus  as  when  our  inmost  soul  has  been  wounded  by  the  arrows  of 
conviction,  and  we  have  felt  what  an  abominable  thing  it  is  to 
wound  our  Master  in  the  house  of  His  friends.  The  only  way  to 
obtain  peace  of  mind  is  to  fling  ourselves  into  the  arms  of  Jesus. 
He  never  loves  us  so  tenderly  as  when  we  lie  thus  on  his  bosom — as 
a  child  hushes  its  last  sobs  on  the  bosom  of  its  mother.  And  when 
we  look  up  into  Christ's  countenance,  and  say :  "  Dear  Master,  for- 
give me  !  "  His  answer  is :  "  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  for  sin ; 
they  shall  be  comforted."  He  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our 
sins,  and  to  cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteousness. 

Blessed  are  they  that  mourn  ;  for  he  who  never  mourns  never 
mends.  Compunction,  if  it  is  of  the  godly  sort,  tends  to  growth  in 
grace.  There  are  too  many  dry-eyed  Christians  in  this  world. 
There  ought  to  be  more  tears  of  penitence  over  our  neglects  of 
Christ,  more  tears  of  sympathy  with  the  afflicted,  and  more  tears  of 
joy  over  the  infinite  good  things  which  Jesus  brings  to  us.  They 
that  sow  in  the  tears  of  contrition  shall  reap  in  the  joys  of  pardon, 
and  the  Saviour's  smile.  Such  tears  water  the  roots  of  our  piety. 

277 


SANCTIFIED     AFFLICTION. 

Blessed  are  they  that  mourn — and  mend!  The  ladder  to  the  higher 
Christian  life  starts  from  the  dnst  of  self-abasement,  but  every  round 
in  it  is  a  new  grasp  on  Christ. 

"  Pining  soul  !  draw  nearer  Jesus, 
Come — but  come  not  doubting  thus; 
Come,  with  faith  that  trusts  more  freely 
His  great  tenderness  for  us. 

"  If  our  love  were  but  more  simple, 
We  should  take  him  at  his  word ; 
And  our  lives  would  be  all  sunshine, 
In  the  sweetness  of  our  Lord." 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTION 

FFLICTIONS,  if  sanctified,  are  good.  They  ungrasp  our  hold 
upon  the  world,  and  lift  the  eye  to  God.  Temptations  are 
good;  they  make  us  flee  to  Christ  and  cling  closer  to  his 
hands.  Like  spies  from  the  enemy  of  souls  they  serve  to  keep  us  on 
the  alert.  Good  are  our  inward  conflicts  with  sin,  they  make  us 
yearn  for  heaven.  God  plucks  from  us  our  earthly  friends  that  we 
may  look  upon  Him  as  He  is — our  very  best  friend.  He  foils  our 
earthly  hopes  that  we  may  not  fail  of  the  hope  of  heaven.  He 
plunges  us  into  sorrow  here  that  we  may  escape  the  sorrow  that  is 
to  come.  He  plants  around  the  tree  of  pleasure  angry  briers,  that 
we  may  be  induced  to  pluck  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life.  He,  at 
times,  gives  this  life  a  bitter  taste  only  to  give  a  keener  relish  for 
the  life  to  come.  If  sanctified,  every  trial  is  a  treasure ;  each  wound 
a  scar  of  glory ;  each  drop  of  grief  will  glitter  a  diamond  in  the 
Christian's  crown  of  bliss. 

878 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTION. 

Are  our  trials  sometimes  great  I  Great  is  our  reward.  Some 
times  the  victims  of  disappointment  here  are  tantalized  by  the  hope 
of  often  offered  but  seldom  tasted  good.  The  branches  of  the  tree 
of  life  do  not  withdraw  themselves  from  the  hand,  and  the  water  of 
the  river  of  life  never  retires  from  the  lip. 

The  mariner  in  the  midst  of  a  storm  longs  for  the  break  of  day. 
The  storm-tossed  Christian,  too,  sometimes  feels  that  his  night  is 
long  and  dark  and  wearisome.  Let  him  be  of  good  cheer ;  behind  it 
all  is  coming  up  a  brighter  day.  By  the  eye  of  faith  and  the  aid  of 
revelation  we  can  already  see  its  streaks.  At  times  we  can  almost 
feel  the  winds  of  that  fresh  morning  breaking  in  upon  us  1  Chris- 
tians, never  despond  in  temptation,  nor  repine  under  losses,  nor 
murmur  in  afflictions.  Bear  them  with  a  smile,  for  the  eternal  joys 
of  heaven  far  exceed  the  brief  sufferings  of  earth. 

He  who  was  in  afflictions,  distresses,  tumults,  labors,  who  was 
beaten,  stoned,  shipwrecked,  'imprisoned ;  was  in  journeyings  often, 
in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  in  the  city,  in  the  wilderness,  in  the 
sea ;  who  was  in  stripes,  in  prisons,  and  in  deaths  often,  could  say,  I 
take  pleasure  in  infirmities,  necessities,  reproaches,  distresses,  and 
persecutions.  Why?  For  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this 
present  time  are  of  no  account  in  comparison  with  the  glory  here- 
after to  be  revealed  in  us. 

Now  could  that  white-robed*company  be  permitted  to  speak  tc 
us,  we  should  hear  them  from  the  heights  of  bliss  exclaim,  in 
triumph,  "Weeping  may  endure  for  the  night,  but  joy  cometh  in 
the  morning.  The  night  is  already  past,  the  day  is  at  hand.  Then 
lift  up  your  heads,  for  the  time  of  your  redemption  draweth  nigh." 

And  from  the  Captain  of  our  salvation — made  perfect  through 
sufferings — there  comes  the  exhortation,  "  Forasmuch  as  Christ  hath 
suffered  in  the  flesh,  arm  yourselves  likewise  with  the  same  mind ; 
for  if  you  suffer  with  bim?  you  shall  also  reign  with  him.  These 

279 


SANCTIFIED    AFFLICTION. 

light  afflictions  which  are  but  for  a  moment,  work  out  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory !"  The  cup  which  my  Father 
giveth  me,  shall  I  not  drink?  "Why  should  I  murmur?"  said  Henry 
Martyn,  in  his  last  sickness  ;  "  weakness,  peril,  and  pain  are  but  the 
ministering  angels  whose  office  it  is  to  conduct  me  to  glory."  "  Oh, 
what  owe  I,"  says  Rutherford,  "  to  the  file,  to  the  hammer,  to  the 
furnace  of  my  Lord  Jesus  1" —  Watchman  and  Reflector. 


HOLD  it  true,  whate'er  befall, 
I  feel  it  when  I  sorrow  most — 
'Tis  better  to  have  loved  and  lost 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all. 

Alfred  Tennyson. 


HE  stars  shall  fade  away ;  the  sun  himself 
Grow  dim  with  age,  and  nature  sink  in  years, 
But  thou  shalt  flourish  in  immortal  youth, 
Unhurt  amidst  the  war  of  elements, 
The  wreck  of  matter  and  the  crush  of  worlds. 

Robert  Pollock. 


TT\EATBPS  but  a  path  that  must  be  trod 
If  man  would  ever  pass  to  God. 


Thomas  Parnell. 


CONSOLATION. 

Mary  H.  Houghton. 

?OT  always  can  we  tell  when  the  most  vivid  lightning  and 
startling  thunder  are  to  come.  Light  clouds  gather  here  and 
there,  the  sun  is  temporarily  obscured,  nothing  ominous 
appears  in  air  or  sky,  when,  quick  as  thought,  the  atmosphere  seems 
bursting  with  crash  and  peal  and  roar  and  flashings  of  fire,  that 
leave  a  wonder  that  everything  is  not  shivered  and  aflame. 

Again  the  sun  shines,  and  a  light  shower  falls.  Soon  a  rainbow's 
broad  and  brilliant  arch  repeats  itself  on  the  inky  clouds  that  bank 
the  east.  A  little  later  sunset  tints  of  surpassing  beauty,  pale-blue 
and  amber,  brown  and  gold,  sea-green  and  rose,  purple  and  gray, 
paint  floating  argosies  of  cloud  that  rise  from  the  bosom  of  the  west, 
linger  at  the  north,  like  ships  at  anchor,  then  slowly  pass  from  sight 
where  the  fading  arches  had  been.  Long  rifts  of  clearer  sky,  like 
far-off,  soft-tinted  seas,  exquisite  and  of  varying  color,  stretch  beyond 
and  between  the  shifting  fleet. 

Some  of  the  saddest  experiences  of  life  come  without  premoni- 
tion. Yesterday  life  went  well,  hope  was  in  the  ascendant ;  it  was 
easy  to  be  content.  To-day  all  is  reversed ;  the  crushed  heart  can 
scarcely  lift  itself  to  pray ;  speech  seems  paralyzed.  It  appears  cruel 
that  such  calamity  should  be  permitted  when  we  might  have  been 
so  happy.  Was  there  not  some  way  by  which  it  could  have  been 
foreseen  and  avoided  ?  Where  are  life's  compensations  now  I 
What  are  its  ambitions  worth  in  the  face  of  this  ? 

In  other  homes  and  in  the  busy  streets  move  on,  in  close  proces- 
sion, life's  hurrying  cares.  There  is  no  pause  with  the  world  at 
large  because  grief  and  desolation  sit  at  our  hearthstone. 

The  clanging  bells,  from  their  high  towers,  call  to  worship  and 

281 


CONSOLATION. 

to  prayer.  Their  voices  are  unutterably  sad.  They  did  not  sound 
like  this  a  week  ago.  A  ripple  of  childish  laughter  floats  into  the 
lonely  house.  Across  the  street  a  proud  father  leads  his  innocent, 
sunny-haired  boy.  Further  on  a  cheerful  mother  walks  with  her 
trio  of  little  ofnes.  They  are  not  tearful,  or  anxious,  or  bereaved ; 
and  their  happiness,  which  yesterday  would  have  made  us  glad, 
to-day  smites  us  with  a  keen  sense  of  contrast.  Night  comes  on, 
with  its  gathering  silence  and  shadow,  and  is  even  more  dreadful 
than  the  day.  Thinking  of  the  loved  dead  at  night,  our  thoughts, 
per  force,  take  the  gloom  of  the  grave  where  their  bodies  lie ;  but 
Nature  is  tender  and  God  is  merciful,  and  there  is  sure  to  come 
with  the  triumphant  dawn  some  bright  and  comforting  thought  of 
that  morning-land  where  their  souls  are  dwelling. 

For  the  saddest  day  some  duty  waits ;  and  when  one  would  with 
folded  hands  keep  idle  company  with  grief,  temporary  consolation 
comes  unbidden.  A  little  child,  with  its  unceasing  activity,  its 
numberless  wants,  its  quick  recovery  from  tears,  its  wonder  that 
we  can  not  be  entirely  consoled  by  its  caresses  and  comforted  with 
its  toys,— even  this  shallow  comprehension  of  the  storm  that  is  beat- 
ing at  one's  heart,  is  better  than  to  be  left  in  uninterrupted 
communion  with  sadness. 

Whatever  the  loss,  ours  is  not  long  a  solitary  case.  To  the  one 
who  has  it  to  bear,  every  trial  is  a  peculiar  trial  When  God's  hand 
hath  touched  us  we  shrink  and  cry,  "  WTiat  have  I  done  that  this 
calamity  should  fall  on  me  ?"  We  question  if  there  "  is  any  sorrow 
like  unto  our  sorrow."  If  we  take  thought  only  of  our  own  cross,  it 
appears  the  heaviest  of  any.  But  when  we  begin  to  recognize  the 
losses  and  trials  of  others,  and  extend  a  helpful  sympathy  even 
beyond  our  family  and  household,  we  experience  the  blessedness  of 
giving  in  a  way  to  react  upon  and  comfort  our  own  hearts. 

Our  burdens,  whether  of  bereavement  or  disappointment,  or 

282 


CONSOLATION. 

wrong  or  regret,  weigh  heavier  or  lighter  at  different  times,  accord- 
ing to  our  moods  and  occupations,  or  the  want  of  them.  We  find 
some  way  to  bear  the  grief  we  cannot  escape  and  which  in  prospect 
we  coold  not  endure.  Bitter,  indeed,  would  be  all  chastening,  if  no 
good  came  of  r..  Who  shall  say  that  this  rending  of  the  soul,  this 
breaking  up  of  all  the  depths  of  our  nature,  this  strain  upon  our 
capacities  for  suffering,  is  but  the  inevitable  chance-work  of  existence ! 

What  does  it  mean  ?  "  That  the  trial  of  your  faith  being  much 
more  precious  than  of  gold  that  perisheth,  though  it  be  tried  with 
fire,  might  be  found  unto  praise,  and  honor,  and  glory,  at  the 
appearing  of  Jesus  Christ."  Were  we  perfect  in  sympathy  ?  Was 
our  charity  unfailing  ?  Lacked  we  not  in  all  directions  that  symme- 
try of  faith  and  purity  of  practice  needed  to  effect  a  resemblance  to 
the  divine  model  ?  Would  we  be  strong  ?  We  must  often  be  put 
to  the  trial  of  our  strength.  Covet  we  the  best  gifts  ?  They  are 
not  granted  to  the  undisciplined. 

We  "  rise  on  stepping-stones  of  our  dead  selves  to  higher  things." 
No  one  soul  is  so  obscure  that  God  does  not  take  thought  for  its 
schooling.  The  sun  is  the  central  light  of  the  universe,  but  it  has  a 
mission  to  the  ripening  corn  and  the  purpling  clusters  of  the  vine. 
The  sunshine  that  comes  filtering  through  the  morning  mists,  with 
healing  in  its  wings,  and  charms  all  the  birds  to  singing,  should  have, 
also,  a  message  from  God  to  sad  hearts.  No  soul  is  so  grief-laden 
that  it  may  not  be  lifted  to  sources  of  heavenly  comfort  by  recogniz- 
ing the  Divine  love  in  the  perpetual  recurrence  of  earthly  blessings : 

"  The  night  is  mother  of  the  day, 

The  winter  of  the  spring  ; 
And  even  upon  old  decay 

The  greenest  mosses  cling. 
Behind  the  cloud  the  star-light  lurks  ; 

Through  showers  the  sunbeams  fall ; 
For  God,  who  loveth  all  his  works, 

Hath  left  his  hope  with  all." 


OUR    LAMBS. 

<M|    LOVED  them  so, 

jjjl     That  when  the  Elder  Shepherd  of  the  fold 
*®     Came,  covered  with  the  storm,  and  pale  and  cold, 
And  begged  for  one  of  my  sweet  lambs  to  hold, 
I  bade  Him  go. 

He  claimed  the  pet — 
A  little  fondling  thing,  that  to  my  breast 
Clung  always,  either  in  quiet  or  unrest — 
I  thought  of  all  my  lambs  I  loved  him  best. 

And  yet — and  yet — 

I  laid  him  down 

In  those  white,  shrouded  arms,  with  bitter  tears ; 
For  some  voice  told  me  that,  in  after-years, 
He  should  know  naught  of  passion,  grief  or  f ears, 

As  I  had  known. 

And  yet  again 

That  Elder  Shepherd  came.     My  heart  grew  faint. 
He  claimed  another  lamb,  with  sadder  plaint. 
Another  1    She  who,  gentle  as  a  saint, 

Ne'er  gave  me  pain. 

Aghast  I  turned  away. 
There  sat  she,  lovely  as  an  angel's  dream, 
Her  golden  locks  with  sunlight  all  agleam, 

284 


OUR    LAMBS. 

Her  holy  eyes  with  heaven  in  their  beam. 
I  knelt  to  pray. 

"Is  it  Thy  will? 

My  Father,  say,  must  this  pet  lamb  be  given  f 
Oh  1  Thon  hast  many  snch  in  heaven." 
And  a  soft  voice  said :  "  Nobly  hast  thou  striven, 

Bnt — peace,  be  still." 

Oh !  how  I  wept, 

And  clasped  her  to  my  bosom,  with  a  wild 
And  yearning  love — my  lamb,  my  pleasant  child. 
Her,  too,  I  gave.     The  little  angel  smiled, 

And  slept. 

"  Go !  go !"  I  cried  : 

For  once  again  that  Shepherd  laid  Hi's  hand 
Upon  the  noblest  of  our  household  band. 
Like  a  pale  spectre,  there  He  took  His  stand. 

Close  to  his  side. 

And  yet  how  wondrous  sweet 
The  look  with  which  he  heard  my  passionate  cry : 
"  Touch  not  my  lamb ;  for  him,  oh  1  let  me  die  1" 
"  A  little  while,"  He  said,  with  smile  and  sigh, 

"  Again  to  meet." 

Hopeless  I  fell ; 

And  when  I  rose,  the  light  had  burned  so  low, 
So  faint,  I  could  not  see  my  darling  go : 
He  had  not  bidden  me  farewell,  but,  oh  ! 

I  felt  f arewelL 
285 


OUB    LAMBS. 

More  deeply  far 

Than  if  my  arms  had  compassed  that  slight  frame, 
Though  could  I  but  have  heard  him  call  my  name — 
"  Dear  Mother  1" — but  in  heaven  'twill  be  the  eainet 

There  burns  my  star ! 

He  will  not  take 

Another  lamb,  I  thought,  for  only  one 
Of  the  dear  fold  is  spared,  to  be  my  sun, 
My  guide,  my  mourner  when  this  life  is  <!one. 

My  heart  would  break. 

Oh!  with  what  thrill 
I  heard  Him  enter ;  but  I  did  not  know 
(For  it  was  dark)  that  He  had  robbed  me  so, 
The  idol  of  my  soul — he  could  not  go— 

O  heart!  be  still! 

Came  morning,  can  I  tell 

How  this  poor  frame  its  sorrowful  tenant  kept  f 
For  waking,  tears  were  mine  ;  I,  sleeping,  wept, 
And  days,  months,  years,  that  weary  vigil  kept 

Alas!  "Farewell." 

How  often  it  is  said ! 

I  sit  and  think,  and  wonder  too,  sometime, 
How  it  will  seem,  when,  in  that  happier  clime 
It  never  will  ring  out  like  funeral  chime 

Over  the  dead. 

No  tears !  no  tears ! 

"Will  there  a  day  come  that  I  shall  not  weep  I 
For  I  bedew  my  pillow  in  my  sleep, 
286 


MY    BABY. 

Yes,  yes ;  thank  God  1  no  grief  that  dime  shall  keep, 
No  weary  years. 

Ay !  it  is  well ; 

Well  with  my  lambs,  and  with  their  earthly  guide, 
There,  pleasant  rivers  wander  they  beside, 
Or  strike  sweet  harps  upon  its  silver  tide — 

Ay  1  it  is  welL 

Through  the  dreary  day, 
They  often  come  from  glorious  light  to  me ; 
I  cannot  feel  their  touch,  their  faces  see, 
Yet  my  soul  whispers,  they  do  come  to  me. 

Heaven  is  not  far  away. — Anonymou*. 


MY    BABY. 

UCH  a  little  break  in  the  Bod  1 

So  tiny  to  be  a  grave  1 
Oh  !  how  can  I  render  so  soon  to  God 
The  beautiful  gift  he  gave  I 

Must  I  put  you  away,  my  pet — 

My  tender  bud  unblown — 
"With  the  dew  of  the  morning  upon  you,  yet, 

And  your  blossom  all  unshown  ? 

My  heart  is  near  to  break, 

For  the  voice  I  shall  not  hear, 
For  the  clinging  arms  around  my  neck, 

And  the  footsteps  drawing  near. 
287 


MY    BABY. 

The  tiny,  tottering  feet, 

Striving  for  mother's  knee, 
For  the  lisping  tones  so  sweet, 

And  the  baby's  kiss  to  me. 

For  the  precious  mother-name, 
And  the  touch  of  the  little  hand, 

0  1  am  I  so  very  much  to  blame 

If  I  shrink  from  the  sore  demand  I 

How  shall  I  know  her  voice, 

Or  the  greeting  of  her  eyes, 
'Mid  the  countless  cherubs  that  rejoice, 

In  the  gardens  of  Paradise  ? 

How  shall  I  know  my  own, 

Where  the  air  is  white  with  wings — 
My  babe,  so  soon  from  my  bosom  flown, 

To  the  angels'  ministerings  ? 

And  this  is  the  end  of  it  all  1 
Of  my  waiting  and  my  pain — 

Only  a  little  funeral  pall, 
And  empty  arms  again. 

O,  baby  1  my  heart  is  sore 

For  the  love  that  was  to  be, 
For  the  untried  dream  of  love,  now  o^ 

'Twixt  thee,  my  child,  and  me. 

Yet  over  this  little  head, 
Lying  so  still  on  iny  knee, 

1  thank  my  God  for  the  bliss  of  the  dead, 
For  the  joy  of  the  soul  set  free. 

288 


CHILDHOOD. 

'Tis  a  weary  world,  at  best, 

This  world  that  she  will  not  know. 

Would  I  waken  her  out  of  such  perfect  rest, 
For  its  sorrow  and  strife  ?     Ah,  no  1 

Escaped  are  its  thorns  and  harms ; 

The  only  path  she  has  trod 
Is  that  which  leads  from  the  mother's  arms 

Into  the  arms  of  God. — The  Evangetist. 


CHILDHOOD. 

John  &.  Whittier. 

life's  sweetest  mystery  still 
jjrt)         The  heart  in  reverence  kneels ; 
**^     The  wonder  of  the  primal  birth 
The  latest  mother  feels. 

"We  need  love's  tender  lessons  taught 

As  only  weakness  can  ; 
God  hath  his  small  interpreters ; 

The  child  must  teach  the  man. 

We  wander  wide  through  evil  years, 

Our  eyes  of  faith  grow  dim  ; 
But  he  is  freshest  from  His  hands 

And  nearest  unto  Him  ! 

And  haply,  pleading  long  with  Him 
For  sin-sick  hearts  and  cold, 
a  289 


OUR    DEAR    ONES. 

The  angels  of  our  childhood  still 
The  Father's  face  behold. 

Of  such  the  kingdom  !     Teach  thus  u*, 

O  Master  most  divine, 
To  feel  the  deep  significance 

Of  these  wise  words  of  thine  I 

The  haughty  feet  of  power  shall  fail 
Where  meekness  surely  goes ; 

No  cunning  find  the  key  of  heaven, 
No  strength  its  gates  unclose. 

Alone  to  guilelessness  and  love 

Those  gates  shall  open  fall ; 
The  mind  of  pride  is  nothingness, 

The  child-like  heart  is  all. 


OUR    DEAR    ONES. 

Jam,* 

>OD  gives  us  ministers  of  love, 

Which  we  regard  not,  being  near ; 
Death  takes  them  from  us,  then  we  feel 
That  angels  have  been  with  us  here  ! 


a  blessing  to  live,  but  a  greater  to  die ; 
And  the  best  of  the  world,  is  its  path  to  the  sky. 

John  K  MitcheiL 

290 


THE    LITTLE    OHTLDREK 

Henry  W. 

§     LITTLE  feet ;  that  such  long  years 
Must  wander  on  through  hopes  and  fears  ; 
Must  ache  and  bleed  beneath  your  load ; 
I,  nearer  to  the  wayside  inn, 
Where  toil  shall  cease  and  rest  begin, 
Am  weary  thinking  of  your  road. 

0,  little  hands  ;  that  weak  or  strong, 
Have  still  to  serve  or  rule  so  long, 

Have  still  so  long  to  give  or  ask  ; 

1,  who  so  much  with  book  and  pen 
Have  toiled  among  my  fellow-men, 

Am  weary,  thinking  of  your  task. 

O,  little  hearts  ;  that  throb  and  beat 
With  much  impatient,  feverish  heat, 

Such  limitless  and  strong  desires  ; 
Mine,  that  so  long  has  glowed  and  burned, 
With  passions  into  ashes  turned, 

Now  covers  and  conceals  its  fires. 

O,  little  souls  ;  as  pure  and  white, 
As  crystalline,  as  rays  of  light 

Direct  from  Heaven,  their  source  dk  in« ; 
Refracted  through  the  mist  of  years, 
How  red  my  setting  sun  appears ; 

How  lurid  looks  this  sun  of  mine ! 

291 


AEE    ALL    THE    CHILDKEN    EN? 

Mrt.  8.  T. 
'HE  darkness  falls,  the  wind  is  high, 

Dense  black  clouds  fill  the  western  sky ; 

The  storm  will  soon  begin. 
The  thunders  roar,  the  lightnings  flash, 
I  hear  the  great  round  rain-drops  dash — 
Are  all  the  children  in  ? 

They're  coming  softly  to  my  side  ; 
Their  forms  within  my  arms  I  hide — 

No  other  arms  as  sure. 
The  storm  may  rage  with  fury  wild, 
With  trusting  faith  each  little  child 

With  mother  feels  secure. 

But  future  days  are  drawing  near — 
They'll  go  from  this  warm  shelter  here, 

Out  in  the  world's  wild  din. 
The  rain  will  fall,  the  cold  winds  blow ; 
Pll  sit  alone  and  long  to  know, 

Are  all  the  children  in. 

Will  they  have  shelters  then  secure, 
Where  hearts  are  waiting  strong  and  sure, 

And  love  is  true  when  tried  ? 
Or  will  they  find  a  broken  reed, 
When  strength  of  heart  they  so  much  need 

To  help  them  brave  the  tide  I 
292 


ABB     THE    CHILDREN    AT    HOME  I 

God  knows  it  all ;  His  will  is  best ; 
I'll  shield  them  now,  and  leave  the  rest 

In  His  most  righteous  hand. 
Sometimes  souls  He  loves  are  riven 
By  tempests  wild,  and  thus  are  driven 

Nearer  the  better  land. 

If  He  should  call  me  home  before 
The  children  go,  on  that  blest  shore, 

Afar  from  care  and  sin, 
I  know  that  I  shall  watch  and  wait 
Till  He,  the  Keeper  of  the  gate, 

Lets  all  the  children  in. 


AEE    THE    CHILDREN    AT    HOME? 

Mrs.  M.  E.  Sanggttr. 
>ACII  day  when  the  glow  of  sunset 

Fades  in  the  western  sky, 
And  the  wee  ones,  tired  of  playing, 

Go  tripping  lightly  by, 
I  steal  away  from  my  husband, 

Asleep  in  his  easy-chair, 
And  watch  from  the  open  doorway 
Their  faces  fresh  and  fair. 

Alone  in  the  dear  old  homestead 

That  once  was  full  of  life, 
Ringing  with  girlish  laughter, 

Echoing  boyish  strife, 
293 


ABB    THE    CHILDREN    AT    HOME  '< 

We  two  are  waiting  together ; 

And  oft,  as  the  shadows  come, 
With  tremulous  voice  he  calls  me, 

"  It  is  night  1  are  the  children  home  P 

"  Yes,  love  1"  I  answer  him  gently, 

"  They're  all  home  long  ago  ;" 
And  I  sing,  in  my  quivering  treble, 

A  song  so  soft  and  low, 
Till  the  old  man  drops  to  slumber, 

With  his  head  upon  his  hand, 
And  I  tell  to  myself  the  number 

Home  in  a  better  land. 

Home,  where  never  a  sorrow 

Shall  dim  their  eyes  with  tears ! 
Where  the  smile  of  God  is  on  them 

Through  all  the  summer  years  ! 
I  know  1 — Yet  my  arms  are  empty 

That  fondly  folded  seven, 
And  the  mother  heart  within  me 

Is  almost  starved  for  heaven. 

Sometimes  in  the  dusk  of  evening, 

I  only  shut  my  eyes, 
And  the  children  are  all  about  me, 

A  vision  from  the  skies ; 
The  babes  whose  dimpled  fingers 

Lost  the  way  to  my  breast, 
And  the  beautiful  ones,  the  angels, 

Passed  to  the  world  of  the  blessed. 
294 


ABB    THE    CHILDREN    AT    HOME  ? 

With  never  a  cloud  upon  them, 

I  see  their  radiant  brows  ; 
M y  boys  that  I  gave  to  freedom — 

The  red  sword  sealed  their  vows  1 
In  a  tangled  Southern  forest, 

Twin  brothers,  bold  and  brave, 
They  fell ;  and  the  flag  they  died  for, 

Thank  God !  floats  over  their  grave. 

A  breath,  and  the  vision  is  lifted 

Away  on  wings  of  light, 
And  again  we  two  are  together, 

All  alone  in  the  night. 
They  tell  me  his  mind  is  failing, 

But  I  smile  at  idle  fears ; 
He  is  only  back  with  the  children, 

In  the  dear  and  peaceful  years. 

And  still  as  the  summer  sunset 

Fades  away  in  the  west, 
A  ad  the  wee  ones,  tired  of  playing, 

Go  trooping  home  to  rest, 
My  husband  calls  from  his  corner, 

"  Say,  love !  have  the  children  come  ?" 
A  ad  I  answer,  with  eyes  uplifted, 

"  Yes,  dear !  they  are  all  at  home  !" 


BABE  in  a  house  is  a  well-spring  of  pleasure, 

A  messenger  of  peace  and  love, 

A  resting-place  for  innocence  on  earth ;  a  link  between  angels 
and  men.  2t£  F.  Tupp&r. 


296 


THE    DEATH    OF    CHILDREN. 

Oho*.  WadMDorth,  D.D. 

His  moral  tillage,  God  cultivates  many  flowers  seemingly  only 
for  their  exquisite  beauty  and  fragrance.  For  when  bathed  in 
soft  sunshine  they  have  burst  into  blossom,  then  the  Divine 
hand  gathers  them  from  the  earthly  fields  to  be  kept  in  crystal  vases 
in  the  deathless  mansions  above.  Thus  little  children  die — some  in 
the  sweet  bud,  some  in  the  fuller  blossom ;  but  never  too  early  to 
make  heaven  fairer  and  sweeter  with  their  immortal  bloom. 

Verily,  to  the  eye  of  Faith,  nothing  is  fairer  than  the  death  of 
young  children.  Sight  and  sense,  indeed,  recoil  from  it.  The 
flower  that,  like  a  breathing  rose,  filled  heart  and  home  with  an 
exquisite  delight,  alas  \  we  are  stricken  with  sore  anguish  to  find  its 
stem  broken  and  the  blossom  gone.  But  unto  Faith,  eagle-eyed 
beyond  mental  vision,  and  winged  to  mount  like  a  singing  lark  over 
the  fading  rainbow  unto  the  blue  heaven,  even  this  is  touchinglv 
lovely. 

The  child's  earthly  ministry  was  well  done,  for  the  rose  does  its 
work  as  grandly  in  blossom  as  the  vine  with  its  fruit.  And  having 
helped  to  sanctify  and  lift  heavenward  the  very  hearts  that  broke  at 
its  farewell,  it  has  gone  from  this  troublesome  sphere, — ere  the 
winds  chilled  or  the  rains  stained  it,  leaving  the  world  it  blessed  and 
the  skies  through  which  it  passed  still  sweet  with  its  lingering  fra- 
grance,— to  its  glory  as  an  ever-unfolding  flower  in  the  blessed  garden 
of  God.  Surely,  prolonged  life  on  earth  hath  no  boon  like  this  I 
For  such  mortal  loveliness  to  put  on  immortality — to  rise  from  the 
carnal  with  so  little  memory  of  earth  that  the  mother's  cradle  seemed 

296 


MY    BOY. 


to  have  been  rocked  in  the  house  of  many  mansions — to  have  no 
experience  of  a  wearied  mind  and  chilled  affections,  but  from  & 
child's  joyous  heart  growing  np  in  the  power  of  an  archangelic 
intellect — to  be  raptured  as  a  blessed  babe  through  the  gates  of 
Paradise — ah  I  this  is  better  than  to  watch  as  an  old  prophet  for  the 
car  of  fire  in  the  Valley  of  Jordan. 


MY    BOY. 

John  Mot/tori*. 

fsff     HA  \E  a  son,  a  third,  sweet  son ;  his  age  I  cannot  teD, 

!jj[     For  they  reckon  not  by  years  and  months  where  he  is  gone  to 

**®  dwell. 

I  cannot  tell  what  form  is  his,  what  looks  he  weareth  now, 

Nor  guess  how  bright  a  glory  crowns  his  shining  seraph  brow ; 

But  I  know  (for  God  hath  told  me  this)  that  he  is  now  at  rest, 

WTiere  other  blessed  infants  be,  on  their  Saviour's  loving  breast. 

I  know  the  angels  fold  him  close  beneath  their  glittering  wings, 

And  soothe  him  with  a  song  that  breaches  of  heaven's  divinest 

things. 

I  know  that  we  shall  meet  our  babe  (his  mother  dear  and  I), 
Where  God  for  aye  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  every  eye. 


>HE  maelstrom  attracts  more  notice  than  the  quiet  fountain ;  a 
comet  draws  more  attention  than  the  steady  star ;  but  it  i* 
better  to  be  the  fountain  than  the  maelstrom,  and  star  than 
comet,  following  out  the  sphere  and  orbit  of  quiet  usefulness  in 
which  God  places  us.  John,  Hatt,  DJ). 

897 


HOME    BEREAVEMENTS.* 

Henry  Ward  Beeehar. 

are  joined  together,  many  of  us,  by  a  common  experience. 
Many  of  us  have  met  in  each  others'  houses  and  in  each 
others'  company  on  just  snch  errands  of  grief  and  sympa- 
thy and  Christian  trinmph  as  this.  How  many  of  ns  have  sent 
children  forward ;  and  how  many  of  us  feel  to-day  that  all  things 
are  for  our  sakes ;  and  that  those  things  which  for  the  present  are 
not  joyous  but  grievous,  nevertheless  work  in  us  the  peaceable  fruit 
of  righteousness  1  So  we  stand  in  what  may  be  called  a  relationship 
of  grief.  We  are  knit  together  and  brought  into  each  other's  com- 
pany by  the  ministration  of  grief,  made  Christian  and  blessed. 

To  be  sure,  if  we  were  to  ask  this  life  what  would  be  best,  there 
is  no  father,  there  is  no  mother,  who  would  not  plead  with  all  the 
strength  which  lies  in  natural  affection,  "  Spare  me,  and  spare  mine." 
For  the  outward  man  this  is  reasonable  and  unrebukable;  and 
yet,  if  it  be  overruled  by  Him  who  loves  us  even  better  than  He 
loves  His  own  life,  then  there  comes  the  revelation  of  another  truth : 
namely,  that  the  things  which  are  seen  are  the  unreal  things,  and 
that  the  real  things  are  the  things  which  are  invisible. 

When  our  children  that  are  so  dear  to  us  are  plucked  out  of 
our  arms,  and  carried  away,  we  feel,  for  the  time  being,  that  we 
have  lost  them,  because  our  body  does  not  triumph ;  but  are  they 
taken  from  our  inward  man  ?  Are  they  taken  from  that  which  u 
to  be  saved — the  spiritual  man?  Are  they  taken  from  memory? 
Are  they  taken  from  love  ?  Are  they  taken  from  the  scope  and 

*  Remarks  made  at  the  funeral  of  a  child  in  Plymouth  Church,  Brooklyn. 

308 


HOME    BEREAVEMENTS. 

reach  of  the  imagination,  which,  in  its  sanctified  form,  ia  only 
another  name  for  faith?  Do  we  not  sometimes  dwell  with  them 
more  intimately  than  we  did  when  they  were  with  us  on  earth  I 
The  care  of  them  is  no  longer  ours,  that  love-burden  we  bear  no 
longer,  since  they  are  with  the  angels  of  God  and  with  God ;  and 
we  shed  tears  over  what  seems  to  be  our  loss ;  but  do  they  not  hover 
in  the  air  over  our  heads?  And  to-day  could  the  room  hold  them 
all? 

As  you  recollect,  the  background  of  the  Sistine  Madonna,  at 
Dresden  (in  some  respects  the  most  wonderful  picture  of  maternal 
love  which  exists  in  the  world),  for  a  long  time  was  merely  dark ; 
and  an  artist,  in  making  some  repairs,  discovered  a  cherub's  face  in 
the  grime  of  that  dark  background ;  and  being  led  to  suspect  that 
the  picture  had  been  overlaid  by  time  and  neglect,  commenced 
cleansing  it ;  and  as  he  went  on,  cherub  after  cherub  appeared,  until 
it  was  found  that  the  Madonna  was  on  a  background  made  up 
wholly  of  little  heavenly  cherubs. 

Now,  by  nature  motherhood  stands  against  a  dark  background ; 
but  that  background  being  cleaned  by  the  touch  of  God,  and  by  the 
cleansing  hand  of  faith,  we  see  that  the  whole  heaven  is  full  of  little 
cherub  faces.  And  to-day  it  is  not  this  little  child  alone  that  we 
look  at,  which  we  see  only  in  the  outward  guise ;  we  look  upon  a 
background  of  children  innumerable,  each  one  as  sweet  to  its 
mother's  heart  as  this  child  has  been  to  its  mother's  heart,  each  one 
as  dear  to  the  clasping  arms  of  its  father  as  this  child  has  been  to  the 
clasping  arms  of  its  father ;  and  it  is  in  good  company.  It  is  in  a 
spring-land.  It  is  in  a  TBummer-world.  It  is  with  God.  You  haye 
given  it  back  to  Him  who  lent  it  to  you. 

Now,  the  giving  back  is  very  hard,  but  you  cannot  give  back  to 
God  all  that  you  received  with  your  child.  You  cannot  give  back 
to  God  those  springs  of  new  and  deeper  affection  which  were 

299 


HOME    BEREAVEMENTS. 

awakened  by  the  coming  of  this  little  one.  Yon  cannot  give  back 
to  God  the  experiences  which  yon  have  had  in  dwelling  with  your 
darling.  You  cannot  give  back  to  God  the  hours  which,  when  you 
look  upon  them  now,  seem  like  one  golden  chain  of  linked  happi- 
ness. 

You  are  better,  you  are  riper,  you  are  richer,  even  in  this  hour 
of  bereavement,  than  you  were.  God  gave ;  and  he  has  not  taken 
away  except  in  outward  form.  He  holds,  he  keeps,  he  reserves,  he 
watches,  he  loves.  You  shall  have  again  that  which  you  have  given 
back  to  him  only  outwardly. 

Meanwhile,  the  key  is  in  your  hand ;  and  it  is  not  a  black  iron 
key ;  it  is  a  golden  key  of  faith  and  of  love.  This  little  child  has 
taught  you  to  follow  it.  There  will  not  be  a  sunrise  or  a  sunset 
when  you  will  not  in  imagination  go  through  the  gate  of  heaven 
after  it.  There  is  no  door  so  fast  that  a  mother's  love  and  a  father's 
love  will  not  open  it  and  follow  a  beloved  child.  And  so,  by  its 
ministration,  this  child  will  guide  you  a  thousand  times  into  a  real- 
ization of  the  great  spirit-land,  and  into  a  faith  of  the  invisible, 
which  will  make  you  as  much  larger  as  it  makes  you  less  dependent 
on  the  body,  and  more  rich  in  the  fruitage  of  the  spirit. 

To-day,  then,  we  have  an  errand  of  thanksgiving.  We  thank 
God  for  sending  this  little  gift  into  this  household.  We  thank  God 
for  the  light  which  he  kindled  here,  and  which  burned  with  so  pure  a 
flame,  and  taught  so  sweet  a  lesson.  And  we  thank  God,  that,  when 
this  child  was  to  go  to  a  better  place,  it  walked  so  few  steps,  for  so 
few  hours,  through  pain.  Men  who  look  on  the  dark  side  shake  the 
head,  and  say,  "  Oh,  how  sudden !"  but  I  say,  Since  it  was  to  go, 
God  be  thanked  that  it  was  permitted  to  pass  through  so  brief  a 
period  of  suffering ;  that  there  were  no  long  weeks  or  months  of 
gradual  decay  and  then  a  final  extinction ;  that  out  of  the  fullness  of 
health  it  dropped  into  the  fullness  of  heaven,  leaving  ita  body  as  it 

800 


THE     ANGEL-CHILD. 

lies  before  you  to-day  a  thing  of  beauty.    Blessed  be  God  for  such 
mercy  in  the  ministration  of  sickness  and  of  departure. 

I  appreciate  your  sorrow,  having  myself  often  gone  through  this 
experience ;  and  I  can  say  that  there  is  no  other  experience  which 
throws  such  a  light  upon  the  storm-cloud.  We  are  never  ripe  till 
we  have  been  made  so -by  suffering.  We  belong  to  those  fruits 
which  must  be  touched  by  frost  before  they  lose  their  sourness  and 
come  to  their  sweetness.  I  see  the  goodness  of  God  in  this  dispen- 
sation as  pointing  us  toward  heaven  and  immortality.  In  this 
bereavement  there  is  cause  for  rejoicing ;  for  sure  it  is  that  you  and 
your  child  snail  meet  again  never  to  be  separated. 


THE    ANGEL-CHUD. 

Mrs.  C.  L.  HIM. 
HE  may  not  return,  but  to  her  thou  shalt  go, 

When  thy  days  are  numbered  and  finished  below ; 
And  it  may  to  thy  angel  child  be  given 
First  to  meet  and  to  welcome  her  mother  to  heaven  ; 
And  there,  reunited  to  part  never  more 
One  song  shall  ye  sing  and  one  Saviour  adore. 


N  angel  stood  and  met  my  gaze 

Through  the  low  door-way  of  my  tent; 
The  tent  is  struck,  the  vision  stays : 
I  only  know  she  came  and  went. 

J.  RussM  LowsO. 
Ml 


EMPTY    CRADLES. 

Mrs.  Georyie  A,  EL 

@H,  the  empty,  empty  cradles, 
That  must  now  be  put  away, 
For  the  little  ones  will  need  them 

Never  more  by  night  or  day, 
For  the  pure  and  dreamless  sleepers, 

Never  more  they'll  rock  to  rest, 
Their  bright  heads  upon  the  pillows, 
Shall  no  more  be  softly  prest ! 

In  the  still  and  solemn  nightfall, 

Death's  pale  angel  noiseless  sped, 
"  I  have  gathered  only  Lilies, 

For  my  Lord,  to-day,"  he  said ; 
Oh,  the  Lilies,  the  White  Lilies, 

That  made  earthly  homes  so  bright, 
How  many,  many  buds  are  missing, 

Since  the  happy  morning  light  1 

Waxen  hands,  with  blossoms  in  them, 

Faces  very  white  and  fair, 
Curtained  eyes,  like  hidden  star-light, 

Silken  rings  of  sunny  hair. 
Hushed  and  still,  we  gaze  upon  them 

And  we  scarcely  know  our  loss  ; 
But  to-morrow  we  shall  feel  it, 

Almost  crushed  beneath  the  cross. 

302 


EMPTY     CRADLES. 

Little  robes,  so  richly  broidered, 

Wrought  with  so  much  love  and  pride. 
Dainty  laces,  pale,  pure  ribbons, 

They  must  all  be  laid  aside ; 
For  in  glorious  robes  of  brightness 

Are  the  little  ones  arrayed, 
All  unstained  by  earth  the  whiten  ess, 

Such  a  little  while  they  stayed. 

Ah,  the  busy,  busy  mornings, 

And  the  nights  of  anxious  care  ; 
Now,  there  is  no  need  of  watching, 

There'll  be  time  enough  to  spare. 
There's  no  baby's  voice,  we'll  listen, 

Thinking  that  we  hear  it  oft ; 
On  our  face  no  baby  fingers, 

Touches  like  the  rose  leaves  soft 

Never  mind  the  noisy  household, 

Nor  loud  foot-falls  on  the  stair, 
'Twill  not  wake  the  peaceful  sleeper, 

There's  no  baby  anywhere. 
In  a  casket,  white  as  snow-flakes, 

Nestling  all  among  the  flowers, 
Are  the  pure  and  stainless  Lilies, 

That  a  little  while  were  ours. 

In  our  dreams,  'midst  dazzling  brightness, 
And  a  rapturous  burst  of  song, 

Through  our  tears,  we  saw  above  us, 
Oh  I  the  radiant  spirit  throng  1 

In  their  arms  so  softly  cradled 
Our  own  little  ones  we  know, 
80S 


MY    CHILD. 

And  we  hear  them  whisper  gently, 
"  The  White  Lilies  from  below." 

Wide  the  shining  gates  are  opened, 

For  the  children  are  at  home, 
Back  to  us,  come  the  sweet  echoes, 

"  Oh,  Buffed  them  to  come  1 " 
Pat  away  the  empty  cradles, 

Keep  we  only  in  our  sight 
That  bright  glimpse  of  the  fair  dwelling 

Which  the  children  have  to-night  1 


MY    CHILD. 

John  PierponL 

«gf     CAKNOT  make  him  dead ! 
!M[     His  fair  sunshiny  head 
•^®     Is  ever  bounding  round  my  study-chair ; 
Yet  when  my  eyes,  now  dim 
With  tears,  I  turn  to  him, 
The  vision  vanishes — he  is  not  there  i 

I  walk  my  parlor  floor, 

And,  through  the  open  door, 

I  hear  a  footfall  on  the  chamber  stair  j 

I'm  stepping  toward  the  hall, 

To  give  the  boy  a  call, 

And  then  bethink  me  that — he  is  not  there  t 

I  thread  the  crowded  street, 
A  satcheled  lad  I  meet, 
304 


MY    CHILD. 

With  the  same  beaming  eyes  and  colored  hair ; 

And,  as  he's  running  by, 

Follow  him  with  my  eye, 

Scarcely  believing  that — he  IB  hot  there  1 

I  cannot  make  him  dead  1 

When  passing  by  the  bed, 

So  long  watched  over  with  parental  care ; 

My  spirit  and  my  eye 

Seek  him  inquiringly, 

Before  the  thought  comes  that — he  is  not  there  t 

Not  there  ?    Where,  then,  is  he  ? 

The  form  I  used  to  see 

Was  but  the  raiment  that  he  used  to  wear. 

The  grave,  that  now  doth  press 

Upon  that  cast-off  dress, 

Is  but  his  wardrobe  locked — he  ia  not  there  I 

He  lives  1    In  all  the  past 

He  lives ;  nor,  to  the  last, 

Of  seeing  him  again  will  I  despair; 

In  dreams  I  see  him  now ; 

And  on  his  angel  brow, 

I  see  it  written,  "  Thou  shalt  see  me  there  /* 

Yes,  we  all  live  to  God ! 
FATHKB,  thy  chastening  rod 
So  help  us,  thine  afflicted  ones,  to  bear, 
That  in  the  spirit  land, 
Meeting  at  thy  right  hand, 
'Twill  be  our  heaven  to  find  that — he  ia  there ! " 
806 


SUNSHINE    FOE    THE    SORROWING. 

Bee.  Theo.  L.  Ouyler. 

MONG  the  readers  of  this  paper  there  must  be  many  who 
"  wear  mourning."  Every  minister,  as  he  runs  his  eye  over 
his  congregation,  sees  the  black  badge  of  sorrow  in  every 
part  of  the  house.  Yet  many  of  the  deepest  and  sorest  griefs  of  the 
heart  do  not  hoist  any  outward  signal  of  distress.  For  who  ever 
puts  on  crape  for  a  family  disgrace,  or  a  secret  heartache,  or  loss  of 
character,  or  an  acute  contrition  for  sin,  or  a  backsliding  from 
Christ  ?  Set  it  down  as  a  fact  that  God  sees  ten-fold  more  sorrow 
than  the  human  eye  ever  detects. 

What  a  clear  streak  of  sunshine  our  Lord  let  into  this  legion  of 
sorrowing  hearts  when  he  pronounced  that  wonderful  benediction : 
"Blessed  are  they  that  mourn!"  Perhaps  some  poor  Galilean 
mother  who  came  up  that  day  to  hear  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  with 
her  eyes  red  from  weeping  over  a  lost  child,  whispered  to  herself : 
"  That  is  for  me ;  I  am  a  mourner."  "  Ah ! "  thought  some  peni- 
tent sinner  who  felt  the  plague  of  his  guilty  heart,  "  that  means  me ; 
I  am  in  trouble  to-day."  It  did  mean  them.  Christ's  religion  is 
the  first  and  only  religion  ever  known  in  this  world  which  recognizes 
human  sorrow,  and  has  any  sunshine  of  consolation  for  broken 
hearts.  Do  cold-blooded  infidels  realize  that  fact  when  they  attempt 
to  destroy  men's  faith  in  the  Gospel  of  Calvary  ? 

We  are  apt  to  limit  this  benediction  of  Jesus  to  one  class  of 
sufferers.  We  take  this  sweet  little  text  into  sick  rooms,  or  to  fu- 
nerals, or  into  the  lonely  group  which  gather  around  a  mother's 
deserted  chair  or  a  little  empty  crib.  It  was  meant  for  them.  It 
has  fallen  upon  such  stricken  hearts  like  the  gentle  rain  upon  the 

806 


SUNSHINE    FOR    THE    SORROWING. 

new-mown  grass.  Many  of  us  know  full  well  how  good  the  balm 
felt  when  it  touched  our  bruised  and  bleeding  hearts.  I  remember 
how,  when  one  of  my  own  "  bairns "  was  lying  in  his  fresh-made 
grave,  and  another  one  was  so  low  that  his  crib  seemed  to  touch 
against  a  tomb,  I  used  to  keep  murmuring  over  to  myself  Wesley's 
matchless  lines : 

"Leave,  oh  leave  me  not  alone, 
Still  support  and  comfort  me  I" 

In  those  days  I  was  learning  (what  we  pastors  have  to  learn)  just 
how  the  arrow  feels  when  it  enters,  and  just  how  to  sympathize 
with  our  people  in  their  bereavements.  Somehow  a  minister  is 
never  fully  ready  to  emit  the  fragrance  of  sympathy  for  others 
until  he  has  been  bruised  himself.  There  is  a  great  lack  about  all 
Christians  who  have  never  suffered.  Paul  abounded  in  consola- 
tion because  he  had  known  sharp  tribulations  in  his  own  experience. 
What  a  precious  spilling  of  his  great  sympathetic  heart  that  was 
when  he  overflowed  into  that  sublime  passage  which  ends  the  fourth 
and  begins  the  fifth  chapter  of  his  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians.  The 
outward  man  perishing — the  inward  man  renewed  day  by  day. 
The  affliction  growing  "  light "  in  proportion  to  the  transcendent 
weight  of  the  eternal  glory  !  The  old  tent  dropping  to  pieces  and 
the  heavenly  mansion  looming  up  so  gloriously  that  his  homesick 
soul  longed  to  quit  the  fluttering  tent,  and  to  "  be  present  with  the 
Lord."  These  are  indeed  mighty  consolations  to  bear  with  us  into 
our  houses  of  mourning.  They  are  the  foretastes  which  make  us 
long  for  the  full  feast  and  the  seraphic  joys  of  the  marriage-supper 
of  the  Lamb.  We  experience  what  the  old  godly  negro,  "  Uncle 
Johnson,"  did  when  he  said :  "  Oh,  yes,  massa,  I  feel  bery  lonesome 
since  my  Ellen  died,  but  den  de  Lord  comes  round  ebery  day  and 
gibs  me  a  taste  ob  de  kingdom,  jus'  as  a  nus  would  wid  de  spoon ; 
but  oh,  how  I  wants  to  get  holds  ob  de  whole  dish!" 

807 


WE    KNOW    NOT    WHAT    IS    BEFORE    U8. 

Mary  G.  Brainard. 

ijf     KNOW  not  what  shall  befaU  me, 
God  hangs  a  mist  o'er  my  eyes, 
*"*      And  each  step  in  my  onward  path 

He  makes  new  scenes  to  rise, 
And  every  joy  He  sends  to  me 
Gomes  as  a  sweet  surprise. 

I  see  not  a  step  before  me 

As  I  tread  on  another  year, 
But  the  past  is  still  in  God's  keeping, 

The  future  His  mercy  shall  clear, 
And  what  looks  dark  in  the  distance 

May  brighten  as  I  draw  near. 

For  perhaps  the  dreaded  future 

Has  less  bitter  than  I  think ; 
The  Lord  may  sweeten  the  waters 

Before  I  stoop  to  drink ; 
Or,  if  Marah  must  be  Marah, 

He  will  stand  beside  its  brink. 

It  may  be  He  has,  waiting 

For  the  coming  of  my  feet, 
Some  gift  of  such  rare  value, 

Some  joy  so  strangely  sweet, 
That  my  lips  shall  only  tremble 

With  the  thanks  they  cannot  speak. 
808 


PASSING    AW  AT. 

O,  restful  blissful  ignorance ! 

'Tig  blessed  not  to  know : 
It  keeps  me  still  in  those  arms 

Which  will  not  let  me  go, 
And  hushes  my  soul  to  rest 

In  the  bosom  that  loved  me  so ! 

So  I  go  on — not  knowing ; 

I  would  not  if  I  might, 
Rather  walking  with  God  in  the  dark     » 

Than  going  alone  in  the  light ; 
Bather  walking  with  Him  by  faith 

Than  walking  alone  by  sight. 

My  heart  shrinks  back  from  trials 
Which  the  future  may  disclose, 

Yet  I  never  had  a  sorrow 
But  what  the  dear  Lord  chose ; 

So  I  send  the  coming  tears  back 
With  the  whispered  word,  "  He  knows 


PASSING    AWAY. 

Mrs.  P.  D. 

is  written  on  the  rose 

In  its  glory's  full  array ; 
Bead  what  those  buds  disclose — 
"  Passing  away." 

It  is  written  on  the  skies 

Of  the  soft  blue  summer  day  ; 

809 


PASSING     AWAY . 

It  is  traced  in  sunset's  dyes — 
"  Passing  away." 

It  is  written  on  the  trees, 

As  their  young  leaves  glistening  play, 
And  on  brighter  things  than  these— 
"  Passing  away." 

It  is  written  on  the  brow 

Where  the  spirit's  ardent  ray 
Lives  and  burns,  and  triumphs  now  - 
"  Passing  away." 

It  is  written  on  the  heart, 
Alas !  that  there  decay 
Should  claim  from  love  a  part — 
"  Passing  away." 

Friends,  friends !     O  shall  we  meet 

In  a  land  of  purer  day  ? 
There  lovely  things  and  sweet 
Pass  not  away. 

Shall  we  know  each  others'  eyes 

And  the  thoughts  that  in  them  lay, 
When  we  mingled  sympathies?— 
Passing  away. 

O,  if  this  may  be  so, 

Speed,  speed,  thou  closing  day. 
How  blest,  from  earth's  vain  show 
To  pass  away  I 
810 


BY-AND-BYE. 

Mrs.  Preston. 

?HAT  will  it  matter  by-and-bye, 

Whether  my  path  below  was  bright, 
Whether  it  wound,  through  dark  or  light, 
Under  a  gray  or  golden  sky, 
When  I  look  on  it  by-and-bye? 

What  will  it  matter  by-and-bye, 

Whether  unhelped  I  toiled  alone, 

Dashing  my  foot  against  a  stone, 
Missing  the  charge  of  the  angel  high, 
Bidding  me  think  of  the  by-and-bye  ? 

What  will  it  matter  by-and-bye, 
Whether  with  dancing  joy  I  went 
Down  through  the  years  with  a  gay  content, 

Never  believing — nay,  not  I, 

Tears  would  be  sweeter  by-and-bye  ? 

What  will  it  matter  by-and-bye, 

Whether  with  cheek  to  cheek  I've  lain, 
Close  to  the  pallid  angel,  Pain, 

Soothing  myself  with  sob  and  sigh — 

"All  will  be  elsewise  by-and-bye?" 

What  will  it  matter  ?    Naught  if  I 
Only  am  sure  the  way  I've  trod, 
Gloomy  or  gladdened,  leads  to  God, 
311 


BROKEN    TIES. 

Questioning  not  of  the  how,  the  why, 
If  I  but  reach  Him  by-and-bye. 

What  will  I  care  for  the  unshared  sigh, 

If,  in  my  fear  of  lapse  or  fall, 

Close  I  have  clung  to  Christ  through  all, 
Mindless  how  rough  the  road  might  lie, 
Sure  He  will  smoothen  it  by-and-bye  ? 

What  will  it  matter  by-and-bye  ? 

Nothing  but  this — That  joy  or  pain 

Lifted  me  skyward — helped  to  gain, 

Whether  through  rack,  or  smile,  or  sigh, 

Heaven — home — all  in  all — by-and-bye  1 


BROKEN    TIES. 

[OW  many  there  are  in  every  human  experience  1  How  many 
even  apart  from  those  that  death  occasions  I  Your  memory 
goes  back  to  the  home  of  your  childhood.  All  its  belongings 
became,  as  it  were,  a  part  of  your  nature.  You  recall  the  familiar 
surroundings.  Your  interests  were  bound  up  with  them.  And  then 
the  time  came  when  those  ties  must  be  sundered.  You  went  forth 
from  the  old  home  into  new  scenes.  You  found  new  ties  binding 
themselves  about  you,  but  the  old  ones  were  broken. 

And  so  it  has  been  all  the  way  along.  You  became  attached  to 
persons  and  the  shifting  scenes  of  life  have  carried  them  away  from 
you,  and  though  you  hear  now  and  then  of  their  well-being,  the  old 
intimacy  is  perforce  gone,  the  old  ties  are  sundered.  The  ties  that 

312 


LITE    WELL. 

hold  us  to  our  surroundings  are  continually  breaking.  No  year  ia  like- 
that  which  preceded  it,  no  month,  no  day  even. 

Let  us  guard  against  those  things  that  may  give  offense  or  that 
may  through  any  fault  of  ours  break  the  tie  that  binds  us  to  an  old 
friend.  There  is  the  bitterness  of  parting  and  the  added  bitterness 
of  self-reproach,  the  sad  recollection  of  what  might  have  been. 

And,  since  all  things  and  relations  change,  since  ties  must  be 
broken,  it  is  well  for  us  to  learn  to  enjoy  to  the  utmost  our  present 
The  time  is  coming  when  your  home  ties  perhaps  must  be  sundered. 
Enjoy,  then,  the  present  relations.  It  may  be  a  humble  home,  and 
you  are  planning  for  one  larger,  and,  to  your  imagination,  more 
enjoyable.  Yery  well ;  only  do  not  fail  to  take  all  the  enjoyment 
you  can  from  your  present  surroundings.  Your  friend  will  go  to 
some  distant  place  by  and  by.  Enjoy  his  society  while  you  have  it. 
Your  children,  while  they  will  always  be  your  children,  will  never- 
theless grow  up  and  go  out  from  the  home-nest.  The  ties  that  bind 
you  to  their  youth  will  be  severed.  Enjoy  them  while  you  have 
Ihem  with  you.  It  is  well  for  us  to  plan  as  wisely  as  may  be  for  the 
future  ;  but  it  is  folly  for  us  to  seek  our  enjoyment  in  the  future. 
Let  us  enjoy  what  we  have  now,  for  "  change  "  is  written  on  all  our 
iransitory  and  mutable  life.  It  will  be  only  when  we  have  sundered 
the  last  bonds  that  bind  us  to  this  life  that  we  shall  be  where  there 
i*  no  more  breaking  of  ties,  no  more  regrets  over  pleasures  that  are 
goiTtr,  but  fweet  enjoyment  of  an  eternal  present — Christian 


LIVE    WELL. 

John 

love  thy  life,  nor  hate ;  but  whilst  thon  liveet, 
live  well,  how  long  or  short,  permit  to  heaven. 

813 


LIFE.— A    PLAY. 

Shatxipear*. 
LL  the  world'a  a  stage, 

And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players. 

They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances, 
And  one  man,  in  his  time,  plays  many  parts  ; 
His  acts  being  seven  ages.     At  first  the  infant, 
Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms  ; 
And  then  the  whining  school-boy,  with  his  satchel 
And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  a  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school.     And  then  the  lover, 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woful  ballad 
Made  to  his  mistress'  eye-brow.     Then  a  soldier, 
Full  of  strange  oaths  and  bearded  like  the  pard ; 
Jealous  in  honor,  sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel ; 
Seeking  the  bubble  reputation 
Even  in  the  cannon's  mouth.     And  then  the  justice, 
In  fair,  round  belly,  with  good  capon  lined, 
With  eyes  severe,  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 
Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances, 
And  so  he  plays  his  part.     The  sixth  age  shifts 
Into  the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon, 
With  spectacles  on  nose,  and  pouch  on  side ; 
His  youthful  hose  well  saved,  a  world  too  wide 
For  his  shrunk  shank ;  and  his  big  manly  voice, 
Turning  again  toward  childish  treble,  pipes 

314 


COMPUTATION    OF    LIFE. 

And  whistles  in  his  sound.    Last  scene  of  all 
That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history, 
Is  second  childishness,  and  mere  oblivion, 
Sam*  teeth,  scms  eyes,  scms  taste,  8<ms  everything. 


COMPUTATION    OF    LIFE. 

J.  R.  Planch*. 

>HKEESCOKE  and  ten,  by  common  calculation, 
The  years  of  man  amount  to — but  we'll  say 
He  turns  fourscore ;  yet,  in  my  estimation, 
In  all  those  years  he  has  not  lived  a  day. 
Out  of  the  eighty,  you  must  first  remember 
The  hours  of  night  you  pass  asleep  in  bed ; 
And  counting  from  December  to  December, 
Just  half  your  life  you'll  find  you  have  been  dead. 

To  forty  years  at  once  by  this  reduction 
We  come  ;  and  sure  the  first  five  of  your  birth, 
While  cutting  teeth  and  living  upon  suction, 
You  are  not  alive  to  what  this  life  is  worth ! 
From  thirty-five  next  take  for  education, 
Fifteen,  at  least,  at  college  and  at  school, 
When,  notwithstanding  all  your  application, 
The  chances  are,  you  may  turn  out  a  fool. 

Still  twenty  we  have  left  us  to  dispose  of, 
But  during  them  your  fortune  you've  to  make  ; 
And  granting,  with  the  luck  of  some  one  knows  of, 
'Tis  made  in  ten,  that's  ten  from  life  to  take. 

315 


LIFE'S  EPITAPH. 

Ont  of  the  ten  you  must  allow  for  yet  left 
The  time  for  shaving,  tooth  and  other  aches — 
Say  four,  and  that  leaves  six — too  short,  I  vow,  for 
Regretting  past  and  making  fresh  mistakes  1 
Meanwhile  each  hour  dispels  some  fond  illusion, 
Until  at  length,  sam  eyes,  sans  teeth,  you  may 
Have  scarcely  sense  to  come  to  this  conclusion, 
You've  reach'd  fourscore,  but  haven't  lived  a  day. 


LIFE'S    EPITAPH. 

are  all  very  busy — busy  writing  epitaphs.  "We  do  not  let 
a  day  pass  without  doing  something  in  this  line,  and  we 
are  all  busy,  not  in  writing  epitaphs  for  others,  but  in 
writing  our  own.  And  we  are  making  it  very  sure  that  people  will 
read  what  we  have  written  when  we  are  gone.  Shall  we  not  be 
remembered  ?  If  not  by  many,  we  certainly  shall  by  a  few,  and  that 
remembrance  we  are  making  sure  of  by  the  tenor  of  our  lives. 
Our  characters  are  the  inscriptions  we  are  making  on  the  hearts  of 
those  who  know,  and  who  will  survive  us.  We  do  not  leave  this 
office  to  others.  We  are  doing  it  ourselves.  Others  might  f alsify 
and  deceive  by  what  they  might  say  of  us,  but  we  are  telling  the 
truth.  The  actions  of  our  passing  life  are  facts  visible,  plain,  unde- 
niable. We  engrave  them  on  the  mind  of  all  observers.  How 
interesting  the  question,  What  kind  of  epitaphs  are  we  writing? 
Will  they  be  read  with  joy  or  sorrow  ?  Remember  the  epitaphs  we 
write  are  not  for  the  marble  that  tells  where  we  lie,  but  for  the 
memory  of  every  one  that  knew  us. — CongregaUonalist. 

816 


THE    LIFE    CLOCK. 


HERE  is  a  little  mystic  clock, 
No  human  eye  hath  seen ; 
That  beateth.  on  and  beateth  on, 
From  morning  until  e'en. 


And  when  the  sonl  ia  wrapped  in  sleep, 

And  heareth  not  a  sound, 
It  ticks  and  ticks  the  live-long  night, 

And  never  runneth  down. 

Oh,  wondrous  is  that  work  of  art, 

Which  knells  the  passing  hour ; 
But  art  ne'er  formed  or  mind  conceived, 

This  life  clock's  magic  power. 

Nor  set  in  gold,  nor  decked  with  gems, 

By  wealth  and  pride  possessed  ; 
By  rich  or  poor,  or  high  or  low, 

Each  bears  it  in  his  breast. 

When  life's  deep  stream,  'mid  beds  of  flowery 

All  still  and  softly  glides, 
Like  the  wavelet's  step,  with  a  gentle  beat, 

It  warns  of  passing  tides. 

When  threatening  darkness  gathers  o'er, 
And  hope's  bright  visions  flee, 
817 


LIFE'S    BOUNDARY    LINK 

Like  the  sullen  stroke  of  the  muffled  oar, 
It  beateth  heavily. 

When  passion  nerves  the  warrior's  arm 

For  deeds  of  hate  and  wrong, 
Though  heeded  not  the  fearful  sound, 

Its  knell  is  deep  and  strong. 

When  eyes  to  eyes  are  gazing  soft, 

And  tender  words  are  spoken, 
Then  fast  and  wild  it  rattles  on, 

As  if  with  love  'twere  broken. 

Such  is  the  clock  that  measures  life, 

Of  flesh  and  spirit  blended, 
And  thus  'twill  run  within  the  heart 

Till  that  strange  tie  is  ended. — Anonymcm*. 


LIFE'S    BOUNDARY   LINE. 

(THE  DOOMED  MAN.) 

J.  Addixon  Alexander,  23.  A 
HERE  is  a  time,  we  know  not  when, 

A  place,  we  know  not  where, 
That  marks  the  destiny  of  men, 
To  glory  or  despair. 

There  is  a  line  by  us  unseen, 

That  crosses  every  path, 
The  hidden  boundary  between 

God's  patience  and  His  wrath. 

318 


LIFE'S    BOUNDARY    LIKE. 

To  pass  that  limit  is  to  die, 

To  die  as  if  by  stealth ; 
It  does  not  quench  the  beaming  eye, 

Or  pale  the  glow  of  health. 

The  conscience  may  be  still  at  ease, 

The  spirits  light  and  gay  ; 
That  which  is  pleasing  still  may  please, 

And  care  be  thrust  away. 

But  on  that  forehead  God  has  set 

Indelibly  a  mark — 
Unseen  by  man,  for  man  as  yet 

Is  blind  and  in  the  dark. 

And  still  the  doomed  man's  path  below 
May  bloom  as  Eden  bloomed — 

He  did  not,  does  not,  will  not  know, 
Or  feel,  that  he  is  doomed. 

He  knows,  he  feels  that  all  is  well, 

And  every  fear  is  calmed ; 
He  lives,  he  dies,  he  wakes  in  hell, 

Not  only  doomed  but  damned  1 

0 1  where  is  this  mysterious  bourne, 
By  which  our  path  is  crossed  ; 

Beyond  which,  God  Himself  hath  sworn 
That  he  who  goes  is  lost  ? 

How  far  may  men  go  on  in  sin  ? 

How  long  will  God  forbear? 
"Where  does  hope  end,  and  where  begin 

The  confines  of  despair? 

319 


OF    LIFE  —  THE    RESPONSIBILI'liJw*    Of     L1FM. 


An  answer  from  the  skies  is  sent,  — 
"  Ye  that  from  God  depart, 

While  it  is  called  to-day  repent, 
And  harden  not  your  heart  1  " 


BREVITY    OF    LIFE. 

Henry  King. 

>IKE  to  the  falling  of  a  star, 
Or  as  the  flights  of  eagles  are, 
Or  like  the  fresh  spring's  gaudy  hue, 
Or  silver  drops  of  morning  dew, 
Or  like  a  wind  that  chafes  the  flood, 
Or  bubbles  which  on  water  stood — 
E'en  such  is  man,  whose  borrowed  light 
Is  straight  called  in,  and  paid  to-night. 
The  wind  blows  out,  the  bubble  dies, 
The  spring  entombed  in  autumn  lies. 
The  dew  dries  up,  the  star  is  shot, 
The  flight  is  past — and  man  forgot ! 


THE    KESPONSIBILITIES    OF    LIFE. 

Alexander  Reed,  D.l> 

>HIS  world  is  a  solemn  fact ;  we  are  in  it ;  let  us  try  to  under- 
stand it,  let  us  grapple  with  its  mysteries,  let  us  think  much 
of  its  responsibilities,  let  us  ponder  the  thoughts  of  the 
inquiring  minds  of  past  ages,  let  us  prize  all  the  light  we  have  from 
man — from  God,  so  that  we  may  be  guided  aright  amid  its  perils 

and  changing  experiences. 

820 


LIFE. 

Lord  Byron. 
}ETWEEET  two  worlds  life  hovers,  like  a  star 

'Twixt  night  and  morn  upon  the  horizon's  verge, 
How  little  do  we  know  that  which  we  are  1 
How  less  what  we  may  be !     The  eternal  surge 
Of  time  and  tide  rolls  on,  and  bears  afar 
Our  bubbles ;  as  the  old  burst,  new  emerge, 
Lashed  from  the  foam  of  ages,  while  the  graves 
Of  empires  heave  but  like  some  passing  waves. 


MYSTERY    OF    LIFE. 

Anna  Letitia  Barbavld. 

>IFE  1    I  know  not  what  thou  art, 

But  know  that  thou  and  I  must  part ; 
And  when,  or  how,  or  where  we  met, 
I  own  to  me's  a  secret  yet. 

Life,  we've  been  long  together, 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather ; 
'Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear ; 
Perhaps  'twill  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear ; 

Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 
Choose  thine  own  time ; 

Say  not  Good-night,  but  in  some  brighter  clime 
Bid  me  Good-morning, 
u  821 


BOTJNDAKIES    OF    LIFE. 

Oliver  'WendeU  Holmes. 

)ETWEEN"  two  breaths  what  crowded  mysteries  lie — 
The  first  short  gasp,  the  last  and  long-drawn  sigh ! 
Like  phantoms  painted  on  the  magic  slide, 
from  the  darkness  of  the  past  we  glide, 
As  living  shadows  for  a  moment  seen 
In  airy  pageant  on  the  eternal  screen, 
Traced  by  a  ray  from  one  unchanging  flame, 
Then  seek  the  dust  and  stillness  whence  we  came. 


THE    VANITY    OF    LIFE. 

Kdw.   Young 

all  this  toil  for  triumphs  of  an  hour  I 
What  though  we  wade  in  wealth  or  soar  in  fame  I 
Earth's  highest  station  ends  in  "  Here  he  lies  :" 
And  "  Dust  to  dust"  concludes  her  noblest  song. 


LIFE,    A    BOOK. 

John  Maton. 

AN'S  life's  a  book  of  history ; 

The  leaves  thereof  are  days ; 
The  letters,  mercies  closely  joined ; 
The  title  is  God's  praise. 

,322 


OUE    LIFE    A    SERMON. 

T.  DC  Witt,  Talmago. 

§U±C  birth  is  the  text  from  which  we  start.    Tenth  is  the  intro- 
duction to  the  discourse.     During  our  manhood  we  lay  down 
a  few  propositions  and  prove  them.     Some  of  the  passages  are 
dull,  and  some  sprightly.     Then  come  inferences  and  applications. 
At  seventy  years  we  say  "  Fifthly  and  Lastly."     The  doxology  is 
sung.     The  benediction  is  pronounced.    The  book  closed.    It  is 
getting  cold.     Frost  on  the  window  pane.    Audience  gone.    Shut 
up  the  church.     Sexton  goes  home  with  the  key  on  his  shoulder. 


HOW     TO    LIVE. 

Wm.  0.  Bryant, 

O  live  that  when  thy  summons  comes  to  join 
The  innumerable  caravan  that  moves 
To  the  pale  realms  of  shade,  where  each  shall  take 

His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death, 

Thou  go  not  like  the  quarry-slave  at  night, 

Scourged  to  his  dungeon  ;  but,  sustain'd  and  soothed 

By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approach  thy  grave 

like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 

About  him,  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams. 


>OD  demands  an  account  of  the  past ;  that  we  must  render  here- 
[    after.    He  demands  an  improvement  of  the  present,  and  this 

*     we  must  render  now. 

323 


THE    VOYAGE    OF    LIFE.* 

>WAS  my  purpose,  on  a  day, 
To  embark  and  sail  away, 
As  I  climbed  the  vessel's  side, 
Love  was  sporting  in  the  tide ; 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  ascend — make  haste, 

Launch  into  the  boundless  waste." 

Many  mariners  were  there, 
Having  each  his  separate  care ; 
They  that  rowed  us  held  their  eyes 
Fixed  upon  the  starry  skies  ; 
Others  steered  or  turned  the  sails 
To  receive  the  shifting  gales. 

LOVE,  .with  power  divine  supplied, 
Suddenly  my  courage  tried  ; 
In  a  moment  it  was  night, 
Ships  and  skies  were  out  of  sight ; 

*  Thia  poem  is  from  the  pen  of  Madame  Guyon — a  woman  of  great  wealth, 
high  intellectual  culture,  and  intense  suffering  for  the  cause  of  Christ.  She 
lived  two  hundred  years  ago,  and  was  a  zealous  member  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church.  Through  a  long  train  of  complicated  providences,  involving  the 
keenest  trials,  she  was  at  length  led  to  an  experience  of  peculiar  richness  and 
depth.  Self  was  crucified,  and  she  sank  into  the  perfect  will  of  God.  Sur- 
rounded by  the  darkness  and  superstition  of  papacy,  and  tempted  by  all  the 
blandishments  which  wealth  and  social  position  could  offer,  she  reached  a 
plane  of  Christian  experience  which  comparatively  few  attain  among  the  Pro- 
testant Churches.  "  God  is  no  respecter  of  persons." 

S24 


THE    VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

On  the  briny  wave  I  lay, 
Floating  rushes  all  my  stay. 

Did  I  with  resentment  burn 

At  this  unexpected  turn  ? 

Did  I  wish  myself  on  shore, 

Never  to  forsake  it  more  ? 

No  !    "  My  and,"  I  cried,  "  le  stiM, ; 

Jf I  must  le  lost,  Iioitt" 

Next  he  hastened  to  convey 
Both  my  frail  supports  away ; 
Seized  my  rushes ;  bade  the  waves 
Yearn  into  a  thousand  graves. 
Down  I  went,  and  sunk  as  lead, 
Ocean  closing  o'er  my  head. 

Still,  however,  life  was  safe ; 

And  I  saw  him  turn  and  laugh ; 

"  Friend,"  he  cried,  "  adieu !  lie  low, 

While  the  wintry  storms  shall  blow ; 

When  the  Spring  has  calmed  the  main, 

Ton  shall  rise,  and  float  again." 

Soon  I  saw  him,  with  dismay, 
Spread  his  plumes  and  soar  away ; 
Now  I  mark  his  rapid  flight ; 
'Now  he  leaves  my  aching  sight ; 
He  is  gone  whom  I  adore, 
*Tis  in  vain  to  seek  him  more. 

How  I  trembled  then,  and  feared, 
When  my  Love  had  disappeared  1 
825 


THE    VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

"Wilt  thou  leave  me  thus,"  I  cried, 
"  Whelmed  beneath  the  rolling  tide  ?" 
Vain  attempt  to  reach  his  ear  1 
Love  was  gone,  and  would  not  hear. 

Ah  1  return  and  love  me  still ; 

Bee  me  subject  to  thy  will ; 

Frown  with  wrath,  or  smile  with  grace, 

Only  let  me  see  thy  face ! 

Evil  I  have  none  to  fear ; 

All  is  good,  if  thou  art  near. 

Yet  he  leaves  me — cruel  fate  1 
Leaves  me  in  my  lost  estate  ; 
Have  I  sinned  ?    Oh,  say  wherein  ? 
Tell  me,  and  forgive  my  sin  1 
King  and  Lord,  whom  I  adore, 
Shall  I  see  thy  face  no  more  1 

Be  not  angry — I  resign 
Henceforth  all  my  will  to  thine. 
J  consent  that  thou  depart, 
Though  thine  absence  break  my  heart; 
Go,  then,  and  forever  too  ; 
AH  is  right  that  thou  will  do. 

This  was  just  what  love  intended ; 
He  was  now  no  more  offended. 
Soon  as  I  became  a  child, 
Love  returned  to  me  <md  smiled. 
Jiwer  strife  shall  more  betide 
'Tvrioot  the  Bridegroom  and  his  bride. 

826 


CHRISTIAN    LIVING. 

TRUE  Christian  living  in  the  world  is  like  a  ship  sailing  on 
the  ocean.  It  is  not  the  ship  being  in  the  water  which  will 
sink  it,  but  the  water  getting  into  the  ship.  So,  in  like  man* 
ner,  the  Christian  is  not  ruined  by  living  in  the  world,  which  he 
must  needs  do  whilst  he  remains  in  the  body,  but  by  the  world 
living  in  him.  The  world  in  the  heart  has  mined  millions  of 
immortal  souls.  How  careful  is  the  mariner  to  guard  against  leak- 
age, lest  the  water  entering  into  the  vessel  should,  by  imperceptible 
degrees,  cause  the  vessel  to  sink ;  and  ought  not  the  Christian  to 
watch  and  pray,  lest  Satan  and  the  world  should  find  gome 
unguarded  inlet  to  his  heart  ? — New  York  Observer. 


FALSE    PRIDE    IN    LIFE. 

John  G. 

|ECAUSE  you  nourish  in  worldly  affaire, 
}    Don't  be  haughty  and  put  on  airs, 

"With  insolent  pride  of  station ; 
Don't  be  proud  and  turn  up  your  nose 
At  poorer  people  in  plainer  clothes, 
But  learn,  for  the  sake  of  your  mind's  repose, 
That  wealth's  a  bubble  that  comes  and  goes ; 
And  that  all  Proud  Flesh,  wherever  it  grows, 
Is  subject  to  irritation. 
827 


LIFE  RE-ACTING  UPON  LIFE. 

Mrs.  Elisabeth  B.  Browning* 
stream  from  its  source 

Flows  seaward,  how  lonely  soever  its  source, 
But  what  some  land  is  gladdened. 

No  star  ever  rose 

And  set  without  influence  somewhere.    Who  knows 
What  earth  needs  from  earth's  lowest  creature  1    No  life 
Can  be  pure  in  its  purpose  and  strong  in  its  strife, 
And  all  life  not  be  purer  and  stronger  thereby. 


tUR  lives  are  albums,  written  through 
With  good  or  ill,  with  false  or  true ; 
And  as  the  blessed  angels  turn 

The  pages  of  our  years, 
God  grant  they  read  the  good  with  smiles, 
And  blot  the  bad  with  tears. 

Jolm  Milton. 

HERE  is  none  made  so  great,  but  he  may  both  need  the  help 
and  service,  and  stand  in  fear  of  the  power  and  unkindnesB, 
even  of  the  meanest  of  mortals.  Seneca. 


Do  to-day  thy  nearest  duty.  CLoetht. 

628 


YOUNG  MEN  LEAVING  HOME. 

>HE  critical  period  in  a  young  man's  life  is  when  he  leaveb 
home,  the  presence  and  influence  of  his  parents,  his  instruc- 
tors and  early  associates,  to  start  in  life  for  himself,  and  to 
make  new  companions  and  acquaintances.  A  large  majority  leave 
the  country  and  settle  in  our  large  towns  and  cities.  They  are 
drawn  to  these  centers  supposing  the  chances  of  success  are  more 
favorable,  and  the  sphere  of  operation  much  larger.  They  come 
with  their  ambition  on  fire,  and  with  visions  of  wealth  before  them. 
They  come  with  a  mother's  prayers,  youthful  purity  and  vigor,  inex- 
perienced in  crime,  ignorant  of  the  devices  of  wicked  men,  unsus- 
picious, and  consequently  easily  entrapped.  Soon  they  find  them- 
selves among  strangers,  and  with  entirely  new  surroundings.  The 
quiet  of  their  country  home  is  exchanged  for  the  din  and  bustle  of 
business.  Instead  of  spending  their  evenings  around  the  bright  and 
pleasant  hearthstone  of  the  old  homestead,  they  find  themselves  in 
the  crowded  street,  amid  the  glare  of  temptations.  It  is  a  great  dis- 
advantage,— in  fact,  a  misfortune, — for  a  young  man  to  be  a  stranger. 
The  devil  is  sure  to  tempt  him  when  lonely. 

How  weak  we  all  are  when  alone.  How  little  we  seem  when 
among  absolute  strangers.  How  much  of  life  is  wrapped  up  in  our 
hearts.  How  love  strengthens  character  and  surrounds  it  with 
bulwarks.  All  this  the  young  man  forfeits  when  he  leaves  home 
and  takes  the  risk  of  unfavorable  surroundings  in  a  strange  city. 

A  young  man  without  a  home,  or  some  special  friends  whom  he 
can  visit  in  their  own  private  homes,  in  a  large  city,  is  to  be  pitied. 


YOUNG  MEN  LEAVING  HOME. 

For  a  whole  year  young  men  in  our  cities  never  sit  down  in  quiet 
conversation  with  a  family  group.  They  know  no  families.  .  They 
are  only  acquainted  with  those  like  themselves,  whose  chief  attrac- 
tion is  the  street  or  the  theater.  Society,  in  the  higher  sense  of  the 
term,  they  know  nothing  about.  They  are  not  at  ease  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  refined  and  religious.  Their  taste  is  gross  and  sensual ; 
their  conversation  has  the  ring  of  coarseness ;  their  manners  are 
rough ;  their  ease  and  grace  in  virtuous  company  are  gone.  Such 
society  becomes  distasteful.  They  prefer  the  club-room  to  the 
parlor,  the  ball  to  the  private  circle  at  home,  the  boisterous  crowd  of 
the  street  to  the  intelligent  society  of  ladies  or  the  elevating  influence 
of  music. 

Thus  we  see  hundreds  and  thousands  of  young  men  slowly  going 
down  to  ruin.  One  restraint  after  another  is  broken;  old  friend- 
ships lose  their  power ;  early  recollections  fade  slowly  away ;  home 
is  forgotten,  or  seldom  visited ;  church  is  neglected ;  the  old  Bible, 
the  mother's  gift,  is  unread  and  unstudied ;  and  deeper  and  deeper 
they  plunge  for  gratification.  To  silence  conscience  they  benumb 
their  f eelings  with  strong  drink.  To  bury  thoughts  of  former  inno- 
cence and  of  home,  they  rush  into  all  kinds  of  amusements  and 
excitements.  Keflection,  self-examination,  thoughts  of  accounta- 
bility to  God, — these  become  purgatory  to  the  soul, — hence,  they 
must  be  thoughtless,  indifferent,  and  even  scoffers  at  religion.  They 
soon  destroy  health,  blast  character,  and  come  down  to  a  sick  and 
dying  bed.  They  break  a  mother's  heart,  fill  an  untimely  grave, 
and  lose  their  souls. 

How  sad  and  heartrending  this  scene.  O,  God !  pity  and  save 
these  straying  lambs,  lost  in  our  city  vices,  and  on  the  road  to  hell ! 
Christian  young  men,  unite,  combine,  organize,  pray,  work,  and  turn 
their  A  feet  into  the  royal  highway  of  God's  redeemed  people. 
Church-members,  welcome  them  to  your  churches,  your  pews. 

830 


YOUNG  MEN  LEAVING  HOMK. 

hem ;  invite  them  to  come  again.  Be  kind  to  them,  and 
luck  a  jewel  from  the  mire  to  shine  in  Christ's  ooronet. 
in  saving  one  soul,  set  in  motion  a  wave  of  influence  and 
good  that  shall  roll  on  through  the  ages,  and  never  ceafle. 
ffi  Voices. 


mix  with  the  world  for  the  pleasure  it  affords,  we  shad  be 
(j  to  be  among  the  first  to  be  reconciled  to  the  freedom 
id  laxity  it  allows.  The  world  ie  ;Aot  brought  up  to  us, 
ik  down  to  the  world ;  the  drop  becomes  of  the  consistence 
of  the  ocean  into  which  it  falls ;  the  ocean  itself  remains 
1.  Dr.  James  Walker. 


re  judged  not  by  their  intentions,  but  by  the  result  of 
ir  actions.  Lord  Chesterfidd. 


Bnerous  heart  should  scorn  a  pleasure  which  gives  others 

James  Thomson. 


is  the  true  alchemist  which  beate  out  in  patibiit  transmu- 
on  the  baser  metals  into  gold. 

W.  MorUy  Pwuhon,  LLJ). 


only  strike  while  the  iron  is  hot,  but  make  it  hoi  by  striking. 

Olvoor  Oromwtll. 

881 


YOUNG  MEN  LEAVING  HOME. 

For  a  whole  year  young  men  in  our  cities  never  sit  down  ij 
conTeraation  with  a  family  group.     They  know  no  families. 
are  only  acquainted  with  those  like  themselves,  whose  chief  I 
tion  is  the  street  or  the  theater.     Society,  in  the  higher  sense  j 
term,  they  know  nothing  about.     They  are  not  at  ease  in  th 
pany  of  the  refined  and  religious.     Their  taste  is  gross  and 
their  conversation  has  the  ring  of  coarseness ;   their  mann^ 
rough ;  their  ease  and  grace  in  virtuous  company  are  gone, 
society  becomes  distasteful.     They  prefer  the  club-room 
parlor,  the  ball  to  the  private  circle  at  home,  the  boisterous  c 
the  street  to  the  intelligent  society  of  ladies  or  the  elevating  ii 
of  music. 

Thus  we  see  hundreds  and  thousands  of  young  men  slowlj 
down  to  ruin.     One  restraint  after  another  is  broken;  old 
ships  lose  their  power ;  early  recollections  fade  slowly  away  J 
is  forgotten,  or  seldom  visited ;  church  is  neglected ;  the  old  ] 
the  mother's  gift,  is  unread  and  unstudied ;  and  deeper  and 
they  plunge  for  gratification.     To  silence  conscience  they  bj 
their  feelings  with  strong  drink.     To  bury  thoughts  of  forme 
cence  and  of  home,  they  rush  into  all  kinds  of  amusemenj 
excitements.      Reflection,  self-examination,   thoughts  of  ace 
bility  to  God, — these  become  purgatory  to  the  soul, — hencj 
must  be  thoughtless,  indifferent,  and  even  scoffers  at  religion, 
soon  destroy  health,  blast  character,  and  come  down  to  a  sij 
dying  bed.     They  break  a  mother's  heart,  fill  an  untimelyj 
and  lose  their  souls. 

How  sad  and  heartrending  this  scene.     O,  God  1  pity 
these  straying  lambs,  lost  in  our  city  vices,  and  on  the  road 
Christian  young  men,  unite,  combine,  organize,  pray,  work, 
their  v  feet  into   the  royal    highway  of  God's  redeemed 
Church-members,  welcome   them    to    your   churches,  yourj 

830 


YOUNG  MEN  LEAVING  HOME. 

Speak  to  them ;  invite  them  to  come  again.  Be  kind  to  them,  and 
you  may  pluck  a  jewel  from  the  mire  to  shine  in  Christ's  coronet. 
You  may,  in  saving  one  soul,  set  in  motion  a  wave  of  influence  and 
power  for  good  that  shall  roll  on  through  the  ages,  and  never  ceape. 
— Christian  Voices. 


IMF  we  mix  with  the  world  for  the  pleasure  it  affords,  we  shaii  be 
likely  to  be  among  the  first  to  be  reconciled  to  the  freedom 
*^  and  laxity  it  allows.  The  world  ie  aot  brought  up  to  us, 
but  we  sink  down  to  the  world ;  the  drop  becomes  of  the  consistence 
and  color  of  the  ocean  into  which  it  falls ;  the  ocean  itself  remains 
unchanged.  Dr.  James  Walker. 


JV/TEN  are  judged  not  by  their  intentions,  but  by  the  result  of 
their  actions,  Lord  Chettenrfald. 


HPHE  generous  heart  should  scorn  a  pleasure  which  gives  others 
pain.  James  Thomson. 


~|~  ABOK  ifl  the  true  alchemist  which  beate  out  in  patient  transmu- 

Id. 
W.  MorUy  PwMhon,  LLJ). 


tation  the  baser  metals  into  gold. 


NOT  only  strike  while  the  iron  is  hot,  but  make  it  hoi  by  striking. 

Olwcr  OromwfU. 


881 


BETUENING    HOME.       • 

Miss  Mulock. 

sometimes  meet  with  men  who  seem  to  think  that  any 
indulgence  in  an  affectionate  feeling  is  weakness.  They 
return  from  a  journey,  greet  their  families  with  a  distant 
dignity,  and  move  among  their  children  with  the  cold  and  lofty 
splendor  of  an  iceberg  surrounded  by  its  broken  fragments. 

There  is  hardly  a  more  unnatural  eight  than  one  of  those 
families  without  a  heart.  A  father  had  better  extinguish  a  boy's 
eyes  than  take  away  his  heart.  Who  that  has  experienced  the  joys  of 
friendship,  and  values  sympathy  and  affection,  would  not  rather  lose 
all  that  is  beautiful  in  Nature's  scenery  than  be  robbed  of  the  hid- 
den treasure  of  his  heart  ?  Cherish,  then,  your  heart's  best  affection. 
Indulge  in  the  warm  and  gushing  emotions  of  filial  and  fraternal 
love. 


TRAVELING    HOME. 

Byran  W.  Proctor. 
>OUCH  us  gently,  Time, 

Let  us  glide  adown  thy  stream 
Gently — as  we  sometimes  glide 
Through  a  quiet  dream. 
Humble  voyagers  are  we, 
Husband,  wife,  and  children  three ; 
One  is  lost — an  angel,  fled 
To  the  azure  overhead  1 

883 


HOME,    SWEET     HOME  1 

John  Byword  Pay**. 

pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home  1 
A  charm  from  the  skies  seems  to  follow  us  there, 
Which,  seek  through  the  world,  is  ne'er  met  with  elsewhere. 
Home,  home  I     Sweet  home  1 
There's  no  place  like  home ! 

An  exile  from  home,  splendor  dazzles  in  vain ; 
O,  give  me  my  lowly  thatched  cottage  again  1 
The  birds  singing  gaily,  that  came  at  my  call : 
Oive  me  these,  and  the  peace  of  mind  dearer  than  alL 

Home,  home  I     Sweet  home ! 

There's  no  place  like  home  1 


MEMORY    OF    HOME. 

T.  Buchanan  Read, 

BETWEEN  broad  fields  of  wheat  and  corn 
Is  the  lowly  home  where  I  was  born. 
The  peach-tree  leans  against  the  wall, 

And  the  woodbine  wanders  over  all. 

There  is  the  barn,  and  as  of  yore 

I  can  smell  the  hay  from  the  open  door, 

And  see  the  busy  swallows  throng, 

And  hear  the  peewee's  mournful  song. 

Oh,  ye  who  daily  cross  the  sill, 

Step  lightly,  for  I  love  it  still. 
333 


JOYS    OF    HOME. 

John  Sowing. 

WEET  are  the  joys  of  home, 
And  pure  as  sweet ;  for  they 
Like  dews  of  morn  and  evening  come, 
To  make  and  close  the  day. 

The  world  hath  its  delights, 
And  its  delusions,  too ; 
But  home  to  calmer  bliss  invitei, 
More  tranquil  and  more  true. 

The  mountain  flood  is  strong, 
But  fearful  in  its  pride ; 
While  gently  rolls  the  stream  along 
The  peaceful  valley's  side. 

Life's  charities,  like  light, 

Spread  smilingly  afar ; 

But  stars  approached,  become  more  bright, 

And  home  is  life's  own  star. 

The  pilgrim's  step  in  vain 
Seeks  Eden's  sacred  ground ! 
But  in  home's  holy  joys  again 
An  Eden  may  be  found. 

A  glance  of  heaven  to  see, 
To  none  on  earth  is  given ; 
And  yet  a  happy  family 
Is  but  an  earlier  heaven. 
384 


HARVEST     HOME. 

Jos.  Montgomery. 
OW  in  the  morn  thy  seed, 

At  eve  hold  not  thy  hand ; 
To  doubt  and  fear  give  thou  no  heed ; 
Broadcast  it  o'er  the  land. 

Beside  all  waters  BOW, 

The  highway  furrows  stock ; 
Drop  it  where  thorns  and  thistles  grow, 

Scatter  it  on  the  rock. 

The  good,  the  fruitful  ground, 

Expect  not  everywhere ; 
O'er  hill  and  dale,  by  plots,  'tis  found  ; 

Go  forth,  then,  everywhere. 

Thou  knowest  not  which  may  thrive, 

The  late,  or  early  sown ; 
Grace  keeps  the  precious  germ  alive, 

When,  and  wherever  strown. 

And  duly  shall  appear, 

In  verdure,  beauty,  strength, 
The  tender  blade,  the  stalk,  the  ear, 

And  the  full  corn  at  length. 
335 


OUB    LAST    FAREWELLS—  FAREWELL    TO    HOME. 

Thou  canst  not  toil  in  vain ; 

Cold,  heat  and  moist  and  dry, 
Shall  foster  and  mature  the  grain 

For  garners  in  the  sky. 

Hence,  when  the  glorious  end, 

The  day  of  God  is  come, 
The  angel  reapers  shall  descend 

And  heaven  cry  "  Harvest  Home." 


OUR    LAST    FAREWELLS. 

Carlos  Wttcoat 

§UR  lifo  is  like  the  hurrying  on  the  eve 
Before  we  start  on  some  long  journey, 
When  our  preparing  to  the  last  we  leave, 
Then  run  to  every  room  the  dwelling  round, 
And  sigh  that  nothing  needed  can  be  found ; 
Yet  go  we  must,  and  soon  as  day  shall  break  ; 
We  snatch  an  hour's  repose,  when  loud  the  sound 
For  our  departure  calls ;  we  rise  and  take 
A  quick  and  sad  farewell,  and  go  ere  well  awake. 


FAREWELL    TO    HOME. 

Robert  SovQuy, 

^AREWELL,  my  home,  my  home  no  longer  now, 
Witness  of  many  a  calm  and  happy  day ; 
And  thou,  fair  eminence,  upon  whose  brow 
Dwells  the  last  sunshine  of  the  evening  ray. 

336 


i 1 


WELCOME  HOME. 


THE    FAMILY    MEETING. 

Farewell !     Mine  eyes  no  longer  shall  pursue 
The  westering  sky  beyond  the  utmost  height, 
When  slowly  he  forsakes  the  fields  of  light. 
No  more  the  freshness  of  the  falling  dew, 
Cool  and  delightful  here  shall  bathe  my  head, 
As  from  this  western  window  dear,  I  lean 
Listening  the  while  I  watch  the  placid  scene — 
The  martins  twittering  underneath  the  shed. 
Farewell,  my  home,  where  many  a  day  has  passed 
In  joys,  whose  loved  remembrance  long  shall  last. 


THE    FAMILY    MEETING. 

Charle*  Spragut. 
"E  are  all  here ! 

Father,  mother,  sister,  brother, 

All  who  hold  each  other  dear 
Each  chair  is  fill'd  ;  we're  all  at  home : 
To-night,  let  no  cold  stranger  come  : 
It  is  not  often  thus  around 
Our  old  familiar  hearth  we're  found  : 
Bless  then  the  meeting  and  the  spot ; 
For  once,  be  every  care  forgot ; 
Let  gentle  Peace  assert  her  power, 
And  kind  Affection  rule  the  hour ; 
We're  all — all  here. 

We're  not  all  here  ! 
Some  are  away,  the  dead  ones  dear, 
Who  thronged  with  us  this  ancient  hearth, 
And  gave  the  hour  to  guiltless  mirth, 
v  337 


THE    FAMILY    MEETING. 

Fate,  with  a  stern,  relentless  hand, 
Look'd  in  and  thinn'd  our  little  band ; 
Some,  like  a  night-flash,  pass'd  away, 
And  some  sank  lingering  day  by  day ; 
The  quiet  grave-yard — some  lie  there — 
And  cruel  ocean  has  his  share  : 
We're  not  all  here. 

We  a/re  all  here  1 

Even  they,  the  dead — though  dead,  so  dear, 
Fond  Memory,  to  her  duty  true, 
Brings  back  their  faded  forms  to  view. 
How  life-like  through  the  mist  of  years, 
Each  well-remember'd  face  appear?  ! 
We  see  them  as  in  times  long  past. 
From  each  to  each  kind  looks  are  cast ; 
We  hear  their  words,  their  smiles  behold, 
They're  round  us,  as  they  were  of  old — 

We  a/re  all  here  1 

We  are  all  here  ! 
Father,  mother,  sister,  brother, 

You  that  I  love  with  love  so  dear. 
This  may  not  long  of  us  be  said ; 
Soon  must  we  join  the  gather5  d  dead, 
And  by  the  hearth  we  now  sit  round, 
Some  other  circle  will  be  found. 
Oh  !  then,  that  wisdom  may  we  know, 
Which  yields  a  life  of  peace  below ; 
So,  in  the  world  to  follow  this, 
May  each  repeat,  in  words  of  bliss, 

We're  all — all — here  ! 
338 


-a*e  HEAVEN, 


The  way  to  heaven. — You  have  only  to  turn  to  the  right 
md  go  straightforward.  BISHOP  OF  LONSDALK. 

tie  who  fteldom  thinks  of  heaven  is  not  likely  to  get  the-? 
The  way  to  hit  the  mark  is  to  keep  the  eye  fixed  vj*m  it. 

BlSUOP    ITOR-NK 


THE  AXGET,  OF  PEACE. 


HEAVEN. 


EXPRESSLY     FOB     THIS     WOBK.] 

By  Fanny  J.  Orotby. 

I  where  shall  human  grief  be  stilled 

And  joy  for  pain  be  given, 
Where  dwells  the  sunshine  of  a  love 
In  which  the  soul  may  always  rove  I 

A  sweet  voice  answered — Heaven. 

O,  heart,  I  said,  when  death  shall  come 

And  all  thy  cords  be  riven, 
What  lies  beyond  the  swelling  tide  I 
The  same  sweet  voice  to  mine  replied 

In  loving  accents — Heaven. 

Where,  where  shall  friendship  never  die  I 

Nor  parting  hand  be  given  ? 
My  heart  was  filled  with  strange  delight, 
For  in  that  silent  hush  of  night, 

I  heard  the  answer — Heaven. 

O,  voyager  on  life's  fitful  sea ; 

By  stormy  billows  driven  ; 
Say,  what  can  soothe  thy  aching  breast, 
Or,  give  thee  comfort,  joy  and  rest, 

like  Mother,  Home  and  Heaven  ? 
843 


THE    APOSTLE    JOHN'S    IDEA    OF    HEAVEN. 

James  W.  Alexander,  D.D. 

"  We  know  not  what  we  shall  be;  but  we  know  that  when  He  shall  appear 
we  shall  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  he  is." 

is  the  apostle  John's  idea  of  heaven.  "We  shall  see  Him 
as  He  is."  This  will  be  enough.  Here  we  have  seen  by 
glimpses,  cloudily,  in  an  enigma,  "  through  a  glass  darkly ;" 
but  then  clearly,  nearly,  fully,  "  face  to  face."  And  the  object  so 
seen  is  of  all  in  the  universe  the  most  worthy  of  being  contemplated. 
God  shines  in  Him.  "  In  Him  dwelleth  all  the  fullness  of  the  God- 
head bodily."  To  see  Him,  in  the  fullness  of  his  unvaried  excel- 
lence, will  be  a  celestial  pleasure,  well  worth  dying  for. 


PAUL'S    ESTIMATE    OF    HEAYEN. 

Hannah  More. 

RECKON,"  he  says,  like  a  man  skilled  in  spiritual  arithme- 
tic.    "  I  reckon,"  after  a  due  estimate  of  tneir  comparative 
value,  "  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are   not 
worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed." 

No  man  was  ever  so  well  qualified  to  make  this  estimate.  Of 
the  sufferings  of  the  present  world,  he  had  shared  more  largely  than 
any  other  man.  Of  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed,  he  had  a 
glimpse  granted  to  no  other  man.  He  had  heard  the  words  of  God, 
and  seen  the  vision  of  the  Almighty,  and  the  result  of  this  privileged 
experience  was,  he  "  desired  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ ;"  he 
desired  to  escape  from  this  valley  of  tears ;  he  was  impatient  to 
recover  the  celestial  vision,  eager  to  perpetuate  the  momentary  fore- 
of  the  glories  of  immortality. 

344 


HEAVEN    A    HOME. 

Thomas  Guthrit. 

fOME  1  oh,  how  sweet  is  that  word  !  what  beautiful  and  tendei 
associations  cluster  thick  around  it ;  compared  with  it,  house, 
mansion,  palace,  are  cold,  heartless  terms.  But  home !  that 
word  quickens  the  pulse,  warms  the  heart,  stirs  the  soul  to  its  depths, 
makes  age  feel  young  again,  rouses  apathy  into  energy,  sustains  the 
sailor  in  his  midnight  watch,  inspires  the  soldier  with  courage  on  the 
field  of  battle,  and  imparts  patient  endurance  to  the  worn-down  sons 
of  toil.  The  thought  of  it  has  proved  a  seven-fold  shield  to  virtue  ; 
the  very  name  of  it  has  a  spell  to  call  back  the  wanderer  from  the 
paths  of  vice ;  and  far  away,  where  myrtles  bloom,  and  palm-trees 
wave,  and  the  ocean  sleeps  upon  coral  strands,  to  the  exile's  fond 
fancy  it  clothes  the  naked  rock,  or  stormy  shore,  or  barren  moor,  or 
wild  Highland  mountain  with  charms  he  weeps  to  think  of,  and 
longs  once  more  to  see.  Grace  sanctifies  these  lovely  affections,  and 
imparts  a  sacredness  to  the  homes  of  earth  by  making  them  types  of 
Heaven.  As  a  home,  the  believer  delights  to  think  of  it.  Thus, 
while  lately  bending  over  a  dying  saint,  and  expressing  our  sorrow 
to  see  him  lay  so  low,  with  the  radiant  countenance  rather  of  one 
who  had  just  left  Heaven,  than  of  one  about  to  enter  it,  he  raised 
and  clasped  his  hands,  and  exclaimed  in  ecstasy,  "I  am  going 
home." 


IN  Heaven  hands  clasp  forever. 

Greek  Proverb. 


345 


HEAVEN. 

Daniel  March,  D.D. 

are  warranted  in  ascribing  to  that  blessed  state  all  that  is 
most  genial  and  ennobling  in  occupation  ;  all  that  is  most 
enduring  and  satisfying  in  possession;  all  that  is  most 
pure  and  excellent  in  character.  The  occupations  of  heaven  are  end- 
less praise,  triumph,  joy.  The  possessions  of  heaven  are  infinite 
glory,  riches,  knowledge.  The  character  of  heaven  is  perfect  love, 
holiness,  peace.  These  things  we  can  at  present  know  only  in  part, 
and  the  word  of  divine  revelation  itself  must  of  necessity  tell  us 
much  of  what  heaven  is  by  telling  us  what  it  is  not.  With  all  our 
studies  and  all  deepest  experience  we  shall  never  fathom  the  full 
meaning  of  the  one  word — Heaven. 


HEAVEN    A    CITY. 

Thomcu  Chithrif. 

CITY  never  built  with  hands,  nor  hoary  with  the  years  of 
time ;  a  city  whose  inhabitants  no  census  has  numbered ;  a 
city  through  whose  streets  rush  no  tide  of  business,  nor  nod- 
ding hearse  creeps  slowly  with  its  burden  to  the  tomb  ;  a  city  with- 
out griefs  or  graves,  without  sins  or  sorrows,  without  births  or 
burials,  without  marriages  or  mournings ;  a  city  which  glories  in 
having  Jesus  for  its  king,  angels  for  its  guards,  saints  for  citizens ; 
whose  walls  are  salvation,  and  whose  gates  are  praise. 

346 


HEAVEN    A    RESTING-PLACE. 

Ohat.  MacJcay. 
>ELL  me,  ye  winged  winds, 

That  round  my  pathway  roar, 

Do  ye  not  know  some  spot, 
Where  mortals  weep  no  more  ? 
Some  lone  and  pleasant  dell, 
Some  valley  in  the  west, 
Where,  free  from  toil  and  pain, 
The  weary  soul  may  rest  ? 
The  loud  wind  dwindled  to  a  whisper  low 
And  sighed  for  pity  as  it  answered,  no  1 

Tell  me,  thou  mighty  deep, 

Whose  billows  round  me  play, 

Know'st  thou  some  favored  spot, 

Some  island  far  away, 

Where  weary  man  may  find 

The  bliss  for  which  he  sighs, 

Where  sorrow  never  lives 

And  friendship  never  dies  ? 

The  loud  waves  rolling  in  perpetual  flow, 

Stopped  for  a  while,  and  sighed  to  answer,  no  I 

And  thou,  serenest  moon, 
That  with  such  holy  face 
Dost  look  upon  the  earth 
Asleep  in  night's  embrace, 
847 


MY  FATHER'S  HOUSE. 

Tell  me,  in  all  thy  round, 

Hast  thou  not  seen  some  spot 

Where  miserable  man 

Might  find  a  happier  lot  ? 

Behind  a  cloud  the  moon  withdrew  in  woe, 

And  a  voice  sweet  but  sad  responded,  no  ! 

Tell  me,  my  secret  soul, 

Oh,  tell  me,  hope  and  faith, 

Is  there  no  resting-place, 

From  sorrow,  sin,  and  death, 

Is  there  no  happy  spot, 

Where  mortals  may  be  blest, 

Where  grief  may  find  a  balm, 

And  weariness  a  rest  ? 

Faith,  hope  and  love,  best  boons  to  mortal  given, 

Waved  their  bright  wings  and  whispered,  yes,  yes,  in  Heaven. 


•MY    FATHER'S     HOUSE. 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stow*. 

>ET  not  your  heart  be  troubled,"  then  He  said, 
"  My  Father's  house  has  mansions  large  and  fair  j 

I  go  before  you  to  prepare  your  place ; 
I  will  return  to  take  you  with  Me  there." 
And  since  that  hour,  the  awful  foe  is  charmed, 
And  life  and  death  are  glorified  and  fair ; 
Whither  He  went,  we  know — the  way  we  know, 
And  with  firm  step  press  on  to  meet  him  there. 

348 


TILE    HEAVENLY    PLACE. 

Howard  Orotby,  D.D. 

are  accustomed  to  say  that  space  and  time  are  only 
conditions  of  our  finite  and  composite  natures,  and 
that  to  unfettered  spirits  there  would  be  recognition 
of  neither  space  nor  time.  Whether  this  be  so  or  not,  no  man 
can  tell.  It  is  a  transcendentalism  that  it  is  folly  to  talk  about. 
Time  and  space  are  absolute  necessities  to  our  thinking.  Every 
conception  of  our  mind  is  formed  on  them  as  a  foundation;  and 
we  can  have  no  idea  of  God  himself  except  as  in  time  and 
space.  Hence  we  must  (whether  we  will  or  no),  take  the  word 
"  place  "  of  our  text  literally.  Even  if  it  be  not  literally  a  place, 
we  ihmk  of  it  as  a,  place,  for  we  cannot  think  of  it  in  any  other 
way.  We  are  not  up  to  this.  And,  moreover,  from  the  words 
being  used  when  our  Saviour  might  have  said  simply,  "I  go  to  pre- 
pare for  you,"  we  may  infer  that  it  is  actually  a  place  (as  we  under- 
stand the  word)  that  is  meant  here.  Farther  than  that  perhaps 
would  be  only  fancy,  and  in  that  region  of  fancy  we  cannot  find  it 
profitable  to  wander.  Bat  that  on  which  we  may  dwell  with  profit 
is,  first,  that  the  place  is  prepared  by  our  Lord  ;  and,  secondly,  that 
it  is  prepared  for  us.  What  a  place  that  must  be  which  Christ  pre- 
pares, which  His  almighty  power  and  infinite  love  combined  make 
ready  for  our  abode  !  It  must  be  a  place  where  every  purified  de- 
sire of  the  heart  shall  have  perpetual  satisfaction,  and  where  Christ's 
own  happiness  shall  be  shared  by  those  for  whom  he  died.  If  these 
are  to  be  the  characteristics  of  that  future  home,  it  makes  very  litr 

349 


THE    HEAVENLY     PLACE. 

tlo  difference  what  the  special  forms  of  occupation,  or  the  objective 
elements  beheld  by  the  sonl  in  that  better  world  may  be.  The 
inner  sonl  longs  for  happiness — it  is  only  the  outward  and  change- 
able sense  that  would  dictate  its  form.  That  it  is  pure  and  holy 
and  that  it  has  Christ,  our  Lord  and  Saviour  in  it — this  is  enough. 
We  know  the  delicious  contents  of  the  vessel,  if  we  do  not  know 
the  shape  and  color  of  the  vessel  containing. 

Imagery  may  be  valuable  as  a  help,  provided  we  do  not  rest 
our  hope  and  affections  and  desires  upon  the  images,  but  upon  the 
ineffable  and  indescribable  beyond.  The  Christians  of  the  earliest 
age  were  always  looking  forward.  Christ's  coming  was  the  con- 
trolling and  encouraging  thought  of  their  daily  life.  The  patriarchs 
and  holy  saints  of  the  other  dispensation  were  always  looking  for- 
ward— toward  the  heavenly  country.  In  different  ways  the  Spirit 
of  God  led  them  to  anticipate  the  developments  of  God's  saving 
grace  in  the  enjoyment  of  glory.  This  lifted  them  above  earthly 
despondences  and  saved  them  from  a  thousand  snares.  As  God's 
people,  that  should  be  our  position,  and  looking  unto  Jesus,  unto 
him  preparing  our  place,  our  eternal  place.  Our  conversation  or 
citizenship  is  in  heaven.  Our  treasures  are  there.  Our  hearts 
should  be  there.  God's  consolations  are  not  like  men's,  mere 
soothers  of  the  troubled  mind,  but  seeds  of  positive  and  independent 
joy.  God's  grace  comes  with  a  set-off  that  belittles  the  earthly  care 
and  sorrow.  If  a  soldier  in  the  ranks  is  wounded,  it  is  one  thing 
to  apply  soothing  cataplasms  to  stay  the  pain,  but  it  is  a  grander 
thing  and  a  better  thing  for  his  general  to  come  to  him  and  bestow 
upon  him  the  title,  rank  and  insignia  of  a  high  officer.  And  so  our 
God  gives  us  in  the  heavenly  title  and  its  pledges,  the  possession  of 
a  divine  and  eternal  joy  as  against  all  the  aches  and  pains  of  this 
little  day  of  earth.  Tea,  he  makes  the  aches  subserve  the  glory  and 
work  directly  into  it.  "This  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a 

850 


THOUGHTS    OF    HEAVEN. 

moment,  worTceth  for  us  a  f ar  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight 
of  glory."  We  have  had  those  who  are  very  dear  to  ns  pass  beyond 
this  narrow  world,  out  of  our  sight.  How  the  Lord  stays  our 
tears  by  these  words  of  our  text ! 

They  are  in  the  place  prepared  for  them  and  for  us  by  Jesus. 
"To  depart"  is  "to  be  with  Christ."  This  is  the  "/or  letter"  of 
the  apostles  which  those  dear  ones  now  know  all  about.  And  still 
the  place  with  its  many  abodes,  is  being  prepared  by  the  same 
Jesus ;  and  you  and  I,  conducted  by  Him,  will  one  after  another 
enter  into  the  joy  of  our  Lord. 


THOUGHTS    OF    HEAVEN. 

Wm.  Pewce. 

G3i     LOVE  to  think  of  heaven,  it  seems  not  far  away, 
flj[j     Its  crystal  streams  refresh  me  as  I  near  the  closing  day ; 
*^®    Its  balmy  winds  are  wafted  from  the  heavenly  hills  above, 
And  they  fold  me  in  an  atmosphere  of  purity  and  love. 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven,  I  long  to  join  the  choir, 

To  sing  the  song  cf  Jesus  my  soul  would  never  tire  ; 

The  loved  ones  gone  before  me,  are  joining  in  the  song, 

They  cast  their  crowns  before  the  Lamb  who  sits  upon  the  throne. 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven,  where  the  weary  are  at  rest, 

No  sorrow  there  can  enter  the  mansions  of  the  blest ; 

All  tears  are  wiped  away  by  the  Saviour's  loving  hand, 

And  sin  and  death  are  banished  from  that  glorious  happy  land. 

I  love  to  think  of  heaven,  and  the  greetings  I  shall  meet, 
From  the  loving  band  of  loved  ones,  who  walk  the  golden  street ; 
And  the  patriarchs  and  prophets  I  shall  know  them  every  one  : 
It  is  written  in  the  "Word,  "  We  shall  know  as  we  are  known." 

351 


BECOGNITION    IN    HEAVEN. 

The  gospel  seer  Isaiah,  and  the  plaintive  Jeremiah, 

And  Elijah,  who  ascended  in  the  chariot  of  fire ; 

And  Daniel,  the  beloved,  and  the  Hebrew  children  three, 

The  robed  in  white, 'and  crowned,  will  be  known  by  you  and  me. 

Bnt  oh,  the  rapturous  vision  when  our  eyes  behold  the  King, 
And  hear  the  thrilling  welcome,  "  Ye  blessed,  enter  in  ! " 
Ten  thousand  suns  encircle  Him,  ten  thousand  crowns  adorn 
The  sacred  head  that  bow'd  in  death — the  head  once  crowned  wi  ih 
thorns. 

Assemble,  all  ye  hosts,  ye  thrones,  dominions,  powers  1 
There  is  no  king  like  Jesus !  there  is  no  heaven  like  ours  ! 
All  glory  hallelujah !  let  heaven  and  earth  unite 
To  celebrate  His  praises  with  infinite  delight. 


RECOGNITION    IN    HEAVEN. 

Robert 

WHEN  a  Mother  meets  on  high 
The  babe  she  lost  in  infancy, 
Hath  she  not  then  for  pains  and  fears, 

The  day  of  woe,  the  watchful  night— 

For  all  her  sorrows,  all  her  tears, 

An  over-payment  of  delight  ? 


T^RIENDS,  even  in  heaven,  one  happiness  would  mis* 
Should  they  not  know  each  other  when  in  bliss. 

Bishop  Thomas 
852 


ATTRACTIONS    OF    HEAVEN. 

Bernard  Barton. 

CHOUGH  earth  has  fully  many  a  beautiful  spot, 
As  a  poet  or  painter  might  show, 
Yet  more  lovely  and  beautiful,  holy  and  bright, 

To  the  hopes  of  the  heart  and  the  spirit's  glad  sight, 

Is  the  land  that  no  mortal  may  know. 

O  !  who  but  must  pine  in  this  dark  vale  of  tears, 

From  its  clouds  and  its  shadows  to  go, 

To  walk  in  the  light  of  the  glory  above, 

And  to  share  in  the  peace,  and  the  joy,  and  the  love, 

Of  the  land  that  no  mortal  may  know  I 

There  the  crystalline  stream,  bursting  forth  from  the  throne, 

Flows  on,  and  forever  will  flow ; 

Its  waves  as  they  roll  are  with  melody  rife, 

And  its  waters  are  sparkling  with  beauty  and  life, 

In  the  land  which  no  mortal  may  know. 

And  there  on  its  margin,  with  leaves  ever  green, 

With  ito  fruits  healing  sickness  and  woe, 

The  fair  tree  of  life,  in  its  glory  and  pride, 

Is  fed  by  that  deep,  inexhaustible  tide 

Of  the  land  which  no  mortal  may  know. 


THE  truest  end  of  life  is  to  know  the  life  that  never  ends. 

Wittiwn  Pewn. 


ENTEKING    HEAVEN. 

Ito.  J.  L.  Harris. 

yon  ever  try  to  imagine  the  soul's  impressions  when  it  first 
enters  heaven  ?  I  remember  distinctly  my  impressions  when 
entering  for  the  first  time  the  city  of  New  Tork.  It  was  on 
the  evening  of  a  beautiful  May-day.  The  soft  strains  of '  music  from 
the  band  which  had  accompanied  us  on  our  journey  were  wafted  out 
on  the  evening  air,  and  fell  sweetly  on  many  a  listening  ear.  The 
sun  was  just  setting.  His  departing  rays  hung  lingeringly  upon  the 
distant  hill-tops,  as  if  loath  to  bid  the  city  adieu. 

The  noble  steamer  which  had  borne  us  down  the  Hudson  was 
rounding  to  at  the  pier.  I  had  heard  and  thought  much  about 
this  great  city,  of  its  bustling  throng,  its  crowded  Broadway,  its 
shaded  avenues,  its  enchanting  parks,  its  stately  mansions,  and 
magnificent  churches;  and  now  it  lies  just  before  me  in  all  its 
reality.  There  were  its  forests  of  ship-masts,  its  domes  and  lofty 
spires  glittering  in  the  evening  sunlight.  I  could  hear  the  hum  of 
voices,  the  roll  of  wheels,  and  the  tramp  of  hurrying  footsteps,  while 
from  a  passing  band  there  came  notes  of  sweetest  music.  In  a  few 
moments  I  was  to  mingle  with  that  human  throng,  and  look  with 
my  own  eyes  upon  the  wonders  of  the  great  metropolis.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  impressions  of  that  hour. 

If  earthly  scenes  so  impress  us,  how  then  must  it  be  with  the 
saint  when  first  entering  the  great  metropolis  of  heaven  ?  The  old 
ship  upon  which  he  has  crossed  the  swelling  sea  is  just  gliding  into 
the  quiet  harbor,  and  rounding  to  at  the  heavenly  pier.  The  eternal 
city  is  just  before  him ;  the  sunlight  of  glory  floods  all  its  streets, 

354 


ENTERING      HEAVEN. 

jubl  bathes  its  " many  mansions "  and  beantiful  landscapes  in  mellow 
splendor.  The  God-built  stories  of  the  New  Jerusalem  rise  before 
him  in  all  their  matchless  grandeur.  He  sees  the  golden  streets, 
the  gates  of  pearl,  the  sea  of  glass,  the  river  of  life,  and  the  throne 
of  God. 

The  song  of  angels  mingling  with  the  harps  of  heaven  now  fall 
upon  his  ear.  Never  has  he  heard  such  music.  He  may  have  heard 
the  loud  swell  of  the  rich-toned  organ,  and  the  majestic  burst  of 
praise  which  has  gone  up  from  a  thousand  well-trained  voices.  But 
now,  when  he  hears  even  the  first  notes  of  the  ransomed  throng,  the 
thoughts  of  all  earthly  music  are  forgotten.  John  says,  "  I  heard  a 
great  voice  of  much  people  in  heaven  saying,  Alleluia !  Salvation, 
and  glory,  and  honor,  and  power,  unto  the  Lord  our  God.  And  I 
heard  as  it  were  the  voice  of  a  great  multitude,  and  as  the  voice 
of  many  waters,  and  as  the  voice  of  mighty  thunderings,  saying 
Alleluia,  for  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth."  As  this  mighty 
chorus  comes  swelling  up  the  vales,  trembling  along  the  hills,  and 
echoing  over  the  plains,  his  rapt  spirit  is  filled  with  an  intensity  of 
bliss  known  only  to  heavenly  hearts. 

Friends  who  had  preceded  him  to  glory  now  meet  him.  Angels 
come  and  bid  him  welcome  to  the  skies,  while  those  who  had  borne 
him  from  earth  to  his  home  in  heaven  lead  him  to  the  Lamb.  He 
sees  now,  not  "  through  a  glass  darkly,"  but  face  to  face.  He  eeefl 
the  Saviour  "  as  He  is."  The  vail  has  been  removed,  and  he  looks 
with  undimmed  vision  upon  the  "  King  in  his  beauty." 

He  stands  transfixed,  and  gazes  with  mute  and  inexpressible 
wonder.  Gushing  streams  of  bliss  come  pouring  in  upon  him,  flood 
ing  every  averie  of  his  wonder-stricken  soul.  The  Saviour,  rising, 
addresses  him,  saying,  "  Well,  done,  good  and  faithful  servant,"  *nd 
then  places  a  crown  upon  his  head. 

O,  bliss  of  bliss  I   O,  joys  of  joys !    Heaven  itself  has  no  language 

855 


ENTERING      HEAVEN. 

to  express  the  rapture  which  a  blood-washed  soul  will  experience 
when  Jesus  shall  place  the  crown  of  life  upon  its  brow  and  a  harp 
within  its  hand. 

See  him  now  as  the  Lamb  leads  him  out  u  into  green  pastures, 
'and  beside  the  still  waters."  He  stands  upon  the  banks  of  the  crys- 
tal stream  which  flows  from  the  throne  of  God ;  as  he  gazes  upon  its 
placid  surface,  the  voicings  and  harpings  of  saints  and  angels  come 
trembling  along  the  shore.  Their  sweet  vibrations  strike  every 
chord  of  his  immortal  heart,  tuning  it  to  sing  in  unison  with  the 
heavenly  choir,  when,  for  the  first  time,  he  joins  with  the  blood- 
washed  throng  in  singing,  "  "Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to 
receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength,  and  honor, 
and  glory  and  blessing.  Glory  and  honor,  and  power  be  unto  Him 
that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb  for  ever  and  ever." 

Surely  one  such  moment  of  bliss  would  more  than  balance  all 
the  woes  and  sorrows  of  earth.  It  is  more  than  language  can 
express  or  imagination  conceive.  "Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  the  things  which 
God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  Him."  I  wait  in  joyous  hope 
to  see  the  day  that  "  crowns  me  at  His  side."  I  long  to  feel  the 
unutterable  bliss ;  to  experience  the  consciousness  of  the  first  full 
draught  from  the  fountain  of  immortality. 


"HEN  I  get  to  Heaven,  I  shall  see  three  wonders  there. 
The  first  wonder  will  be  to  see  people  there  that  I  did  not 
expect ;  the  second  wonder  will  be  to  miss  many  persona 
whom  I  did  expect  to  see ;  and  the  third  and  greatest  wonder  of  all 
will  be  to  find  myself  there.  John  Newton. 

356 


DELIGHTS    OF     HEAVEN. 

Isaac 
HEKE  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 

Where  saints  immortal  reign  ; 
Infinite  day  excludes  the  night, 
And  pleasures  banish  pain, 

There  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never-with'ring  flowers  ; 

Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides 
This  heavenly  land  from  ours. 

Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  dress'd  in  living  green  ; 

So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood, 
While  Jordan  roll'd  between. 


Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  stood, 

And  view  the  landscape  o'er, 
Not  Jordan's  stream,  nor  death's  cold  flood, 

Should  fright  us  from  the  shore. 


Y  knowledge  of  that  life  is  small, 


But  'tis  enough  that  Christ  knows  all, 
And  I  shall  be  with  him.  Baxter. 

357 


BEAUTIFUL   HEAVEN. 

Delia  E.  W*Uctr. 

BEAUTIFUL  Heaven,  blissful  abode, 
JJM    Evergreen  fields  in  the  city  of  God ; 
*^     The  gate  ajar  by  faith  I  see, 

And  the  blessed  Saviour  that  died  for  ma 

Beautiful  fields,  ever  green, 
"With  nothing  but  the  vail  between. 
When  life  is  spent  and  the  vail  is  rent, 
Our  vision  bright  shall  behold  the  sight. 

The  jasper  walls,  the  streets  of  gold, 
The  Lamb  of  God,  the  Shepherd's  fold, 
The  saint's  sweet  rest, 
In  the  land  of  the  blest. 

My  soul  in  its  vision  would  fain  take  its  flight, 
And  soar  to  that  beautiful  land  of  light, 
Away  to  that  blissful  home  on  high, 
Where  we  shall  live  to  love  and  never  die. 

And  there,  where  the  white-robed  angels  are, 
Within  the  gate  that's  left  ajar, 
Would  seek  to  dwell  in  the  land  of  the  blest, 
Forever  with  God's  saints  at  rest. 

Oh  I  beautiful  home,  sweet  Eden  land, 
No  storms  ever  beat  on  thy  glittering  strand  ; 
O !  my  dear  Saviour,  fain  would  I  flee, 
And  be  forever  at  rest  with  thee. 

358 


SONGS    IN    HEAVEN. 

M.  T.  B. 
music  be  so  very  sweet, 

While  here  we  plod  along, 
What  mufit  it  be  when  our  tired  feet 
Shall  tread  the  Shore  of  Song  1 

If  Christian  fellowship  can  bind 

Our  hearts  in  bonds  of  love, 
What  may  it  not  be  when  we  find 

Ourselves  at  Home,  above  ? 

If  here  we  take  delight  in  prayer, 

And  love  God's  throne  of  grace, 
Then  may  we  long,  without  a  fear, 

To  meet  Him  face  to  face. 

'Tis  said,  perhaps  it  may  be  true, 
"  Prayer  ends  with  earthly  daya  ; 

Or,  rather,  that  it  flows  into 
One  ceaseless  song  of  praise." 

When  we  shall  tread  the  shore  of  song, 

Where  music  ever  rings ; 
When  we  shall  join  the  radiant  throng 

And  see  the  King  of  kings ; 

Then  shall  the  worth  of  prayer  be  shown, 

The  soul  of  song  be  given, 
And  sweetest  fellowship  be  known 

To  all  who're  safe  in  Heaven. 

m 


HYMNS    OF    HEAVEN. 

TTuso.  L.  Ouytor,  D.D. 

4feff  HAT)  rather  be  the  author  of  "Kock  of  Ages" — that  crown- 
llj[  jewel  of  sacred  minstrelsy — than  of  either  of  President  Ed- 
•***  wards'  masterly  treatises.  Charles  Wesley  did  more  for 
Christ  when  he  sang 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul  I" 

than  if  he  had  written  fifty  volumes  of  sound  theology.  The  hymn 
itself  would  be  enough  to  make  Wesley's  and  Calvin's  spirits 
embrace  each  other  before  the  throne  of  their  Kedeemer,  and  weep 
that  they  ever  had  a  controversy  while  in  the  flesh. 

Among  the  ancient  hymns  of  heaven  we  must  not  overlook  that 
noble  lyric  composed  by  old  Bernard  of  Cluny.  Its  opening  verse 

i% 

"Jerusalem,  the  golden  1 

With  milk  and  honey  bleat, 
Beneath  thy  contemplation 
Sink  heart  and  voice  oppressed  I" 

The  whole  hymn  reads  like  one  of  holy  Rutherford's  "  Letters," 
turned  into  rhyme.  It  is  rich  in  scriptural  imagery,  without  degen- 
erating into  the  coarser  sensuous  language  which  disfigures  some  of 
the  piouo  doggerel  in  our  Sabbath-school  music  books.  In  fact, 
some  of  these  descriptions  of  heaven  would  answer  about  as  well  for 
Mohammed's  Paradise.  They  give  children  the  idea  that  the  glori- 
fied spirits  on  high  are  enjoying  a  sort  of  celestial  picnic,  with  no 
end  of  good  things  to  eat,  and  of  angels  to  sing  to  them  under  the 
green  bowers. 

In  my  own  childhood  I  got  a  very  different  conception  of  the 

860 


ECHOES    FBOM     HEAVEN. 

holy  habitation  of  the  redeemed,  when  I  heard  that  glorious  hjxna 
of  Isaac  Watta : 

"There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight 
Where  saints  immortal  reign, 
Infinite  day  excludes  the  night, 
And  pleasures  banish  pain." 

As  the  inspired  singer  of  this  lay  looked  across  Southampton 
water  to  the  verdant  banks  of  the  Isle  of  Wight,  he  caught  a  beau- 
tiful image  of  death  as  a  "narrow  sea"  dividing  the  heavenly  land 
from  ours.  He  imagines  the  lovely  island  across  the  water  to  be  a 
type  of  that  land,  and  writes — 

"  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 

Stand  dressed  in  living  green ; 

So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood 

While  Jordan  rolled  between." 

Of  many  another  hymn  of  heaven  I  wish  I  had  time  and  space 
to  write.  In  our  days  several  fine  additions  have  been  made  to  this 
celestial  hymnology.  Among  them  are  "  Rest  for  the  "Weary,"  and 
Dr.  Muhlenberg's  "  I  would  not  Live  alway." 


ECHOES    FROM    HEAVEN. 

John  Oumminff,  D.D. 

the  shores  of  the  Adriatic,  the  wives  of  fishermen  whose  hus- 
bands have  gone  far  out  upon  the  deep,  are  in  the  habit,  at 
eventide,  of  going  down  to  the  seashore  and  singing,  as  female 
voices  only  can,  the  first  stanza  of  a  beautiful  hymn.  After  they 
have  sung  it,  they  listen  till  they  hear,  borne  by  the  winds  across  the 
desert  sea,  the  second  stanza,  sung  by  their  gallant  husbands  as  they 
are  tossed  by  the  gale  upon  the  waves.  Perhaps,  if  we  could  listen, 
we  too  might  hear  on  this  desert  world  of  ours,  some  sound,  some 
whisper,  borne  from  afar,  to  remind  us  that  there  is  a  heaven  and  a 
home.  361 


HEAVENLY    BEAUTIES. 

Ml»»  Marth. 

are  invited  to  enjoy  a  perfect  sympathy  with  the  Bride- 
groom of  our  souls,  to  have  a  complete  oneness  of  interest 
with  Tfim  in  all  that  concerns  His  kingdom  and  glory  ;  a& 
well  as  to  live  constantly  upon  His  grace,  holiness,  wisdom,  power, 
and  lore. 

Just  as  we  live  our  natural  lives  by  breathing  in  the  air  that 
Burrounda  us,  unconsciously,  more  often  than  consciously,  we  may 
still  live  and  move,  and  have  our  being  in  Christ,  even  when  we  are 
necessarily  occupied  with  other  thoughts  and  duties ;  and  be  ready, 
the  instant  we  are  "  let  go  "  from  outward  objects  and  claims,  to 
return  joyfully  "  to  our  own  company,"  our  Blessed  Lord  himself. 

Into  this  purer,  higher  atmosphere,  all  who  have  accepted  Jesus 
as  their  Saviour  might  be  lifted  up — simply  by  looking  unto  TTim 
with  the  same  look  of  hope  and  trust  with  which  they  passed  from 
death  unto  life. 

"Looking  unto  Jesus — to  be  made  patient  with  Hia  patience, 
active  with  His  activity,  loving  with  His  love ;  asking,  not  *  What 
can  If  but,  'What  cannot  He!'  and  waiting  upon  Hig  strength, 
which  is  made  perfect  in  weakness.  Looking  onto  Jesus,  in  order 
that  the  brightness  of  His  face  may  be  the  light  of  our  darkness, 
that  our  joys  may  be  holy,  and  our  sorrows  calm." 

"  Higher,  higher,  every  thought 
More  into  His  presence  brought, 
Every  passion,  every  feeling, 
More  His  bidden  life  revealing. 
Less  of  self,  from  hour  to  hour, 
More  of  Christ's  transforming  power, 
362 


THE    CHRISTIAN    IN    HEAVEN. 

Yearnings  heavenward  to  aspire 
Unto  Jesus,  higher,  higher. 

"Higher,  higher,  till  at  length, 
Going  on  from  strength  to  strength, 
Passing  up,  from  grace  to  grace. 
I  behold  that  longed-for  face, 
Which  is  ever  o'er  me  leaning 
With  its  deep  and  tender  meaning, 
And  doth  into  light  retire 
But  to  lead  me  higher,  higher." 


THE    CHKISTIAN    IN    HEAVEN. 

John  8.  0.  Atoott,  D.D. 

>HE  question  often  is  asked,  "  If  Christians  in  heaven  know  all 
that  is  transpiring  upon  earth,  suppose  a  sainted  mother  sees 
a  son  or  a  daughter  here  going  in  the  ways  of  ruin,  how  can 
she  be  happy?" 

This  is  a  mystery  which  God  has  not  yet  explained  to  us.  It 
seems,  now,  impossible  that  a  mother  can  be  happy  in  heaven  with 
her  child  forever  banished  from  her.  But  let  us  remember  that 
God  is  more  truly  the  parent  of  every  being  on  earth  than  its 
earthly  father  or  mother  can  possibly  be. 

"We  are  God's  sons  and  daughters  in  a  far  higher  sense  than  we 
are  the  sons  or  daughters  of  our  earthly  parents.  God  made  our 
bodies  and  our  spirits.  God  became  man,  and,  by  his  own  humilia- 
tion and  sufferings  upon  the  cross,  made  atonement  for  our  sins. 
Year  after  year,  with  yearning  utterance,  God  has  cried  out  to  us, 
"  My  son,  my  daughter,  give  me  thine  heart."  Tes,  God  is  our 
father  in  a  far  more  exalted  sense  than  any  earthly  parent  can  be. 
Earthly  love  is  frail  and  variable.  God's  love  is  unchanging. 

363 


THE    OHBISTIAW    IN    HEAVEN. 

In  the  heavenly  world  we  shall  be  like  God.  "Beloved,  now 
are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we 
shall  be ;  bnt  we  know  that  when  lie  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like 
Him."  1  John,  iii.  2.  God  will  open  to  ns  there  views  of  which 
here  we  can  form  no  conception.  And  if  God,  our  living,  heavenly 
Father,  can  be  happy  on  His  eternal  throne  while  some  of  Hifl  chil- 
dren are  in  persistent  rebellion  against  Him  and  are  suffering  the 
rebels'  dreadful  doom,  earthly  parents,  translated  to  heaven,  sharing 
God's  nature,  with  souls  ennobled,  expanded,  illumined  with  celestial 
light,  will  certainly  witness  nothing  in  the  administration  of  God's 
government  which  will  thrill  their  souls  with  anguish. 

The  intelligence  of  every  hearer  will  assent  to  the  remark  that  it 
cannot  be  that  our  happiness  in  heaven  will  be  based  upon  our  ignor- 
ance. It  cannot  be  that  God,  in  order  to  save  us  from  sorrow,  will, 
when  we  are  in  heaven,  find  it  necessary  for  our  happiness  to  con- 
ceal from  us  what  is  transpiring  under  His  government.  There  we 
shall  be  like  God,  and  shall  know  even  as  we  are  known. 

The  question  may  arise,  "  What  bearing  has  this  subject  upon  the 
doctrine  of  modern  Spiritualism  ?  "  It  is  sufficient  to  remark  that 
in  all  the  descriptions  which  the  Bible  gives  us  of  the  visits  of 
angels  to  this  world,  they  came  in  dignity  worthy  of  their  exalted 
character.  They  were  ever  intrusted  with  the  fulfillment  of  some 
sublime  mission — as  in  all  the  instances  recorded  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment ;  as  in  the  annunciation  to  the  Virgin ;  as  when  the  celestial 
retinue  accompanied  the  Son  of  God  to  his  birth  in  the  manger ;  as 
when  Moses  and  Elias,  in  anticipation  of  the  dreadful  scenes  of  the 
cross,  met  Jesus  upon  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration. 

It  will  require  stronger  evidence  than  has  ever  yet  been  pre- 
sented to  my  mind  to  lead  me  to  believe  that  the  spirits  of  the  just 
made  perfect  in  heaven  can  ever  come  to  earth  in  degrading  guise, 
performing  ignoble  functions  and  bearing  but  idle  talcs. 

864 


THE    CHRISTIAN    IN    HEAVEN. 

It  must  be  to  all  minds  a  cheering  thought  that  our  loved  ones  in 
heaven  are  still  with  us  in  spirit  on  earth.  It  is  a  cheering  thought 
that  when  we  die  we  shall  still  be  interested  in  all  that  is  transpiring 
on  this  globe ;  that  we  shall  know,  far  more  intimately  than  we  can 
now  know,  every  event  which  is  taking  place  here.  Our  vision  is 
now  limited.  Then  we  shall  embrace  in  one  view  all  the  nations, 
tribes,  and  families,  from  the  equator  to  the  poles. 

Such  is  the  prospect  which  is  presented  to  the  Christian  in  the 
future  world.  Such  is  the  home,  and  such  the  enjoyments  we  may 
have  forever.  To  extricate  man  from  the  ruin  in  which  he  is 
involved  by  the  fall,  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God,  has  died,  in  atoning 
sacrifice,  upon  the  cross.  To  influence  the  sinner  to  abandon  rebel- 
lion, and  return  to  his  allegiance  to  the  heavenly  King,  the  Holy 
Spirit  pleads  in  all  the  earnest  voices  of  nature  and  of  providence. 
And  our  heavenly  Father  bends  over  us  with  parental  love,  hie 
earnest  entreaty  being,  "  My  son,  my  daughter,  give  me  thine  heart." 

Reader,  can  you  renounce  such  offers,  and  live  in  rejection  of  the 
Saviour,  when  such  love  invites,  and  when  such  dignity  and  glory 
are  offered  to  you  ?  Become  a  Christian,  and  your  life  upon  earth 
will  be  far  more  happy  than  it  can  otherwise  be  ;  your  nature  will 
be  ennobled  as  your  name  is  enrolled  in  the  sacramental  hosts  of 
God's  elect ;  you  may  then  lead  others  to  the  Saviour,  and  thus  be  a 
co-worker  with  God  in  redeeming  a  lost  world. 

Become  a  Christian,  and  death  shall  then  be  to  you  but  transla- 
tion to  a  higher  and  nobler  sphere  of  action ;  then,  through  all  the 
ages  of  immortality,  you  shall  soar  in  perfect  holiness  and  ever- 
increasing  bliss.  Every  possible  consideration  urges  you  to  become 
a  Christian.  To  accept  Jesus  as  your  Saviour  brings  upon  you, 
eventually,  every  conceivable  blessing.  To  reject  him  dooms  you  to 
woe.  Delay  not  this  decision.  Every  hour  of  delay  is  full  of  peril. 
Now  is  the  accepted  time.  To-morrow,  to  you  may  never  come. 


THE    LAND    OF    BEULAH. 

0.  Huntinyton. 

GLOEIOTJS  land  of  heavenly  light, 
Where  walk  the  ransomed,  clothed  in  white, 
On  hills  of  myrrh,  through  pastures  green, 
No  curse,  no  cloud  upon  the  scene  I 

Land  where  the  crystal  river  glides, 
And  fruits  immortal  deck  its  sides ; 
O  land  of  rest  in  Eden's  bowers. 
No  dreary  days,  no  weary  hours  I 

No  nights  of  unavailing  grief, 
Nor  crying  which  brings  no  relief ; 
For  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears, 
And  into  the  past  are  passed  our  fears. 

Beulah,  if  e'er  my  weary  feet 
Shall  press  thy  blissful  shore, 
And  tread  each  shining,  golden  street, 
To  go  out  thence  no  more, 

What  shall  I  care  for  all  the  way 
That  led  to  thee  at  last — 
For  every  dark,  despairing  day, 
For  ever,  ever  past  ? 

If  e'er  the  loved  of  earthly  years 
Shall  welcome  me  to  thee, 
What  shall  I  care  for  all  these  tears 
Oft  flowing  bitterly? 

8G6 


THE    SILENT    8HOEE. 

If  I  may  stand  before  His  throne, 
And  look  upon  His  face, 
What  shall  I  care  that  oft,  alone, 
Like  Him,  I  ran  my  race? 

Safe  on  thy  ever  blissful  plains, 
My  heart's  own  treasure  gathered  there ; 
Farewell  for  ever,  sins  and  pains, 
Farewell,  bereavement,  sorrow,  care  1 


THE    SILENT    SHORE. 

Charfa  LatA 

sprightly  neighbor,  gone  before 
To  that  unknown  and  silent  shore, 
Shall  we  not  meet  as  heretofore 

Some  summer  morning, 
When  from  thy  cheerful  eyes  a  ray 
Hath  struck  a  bliss  upon  the  day, 
A  bliss  that  would  not  go  away, 

A  sweet  forewarning  I 


is  little  matter  at  what  hour  of  the  day 

The  righteous  fall  asleep.    Death  cannot  com* 

To  him  untimely  who  has  learned  to  die. 

The  less  of  this  brief  life,  the  more  of  heaven ; 

The  shorter  time,  the  longer  immortality. 

Dean 

887 


HEAVEN— NOT    FAR    AWAY. 

heaven  is  nearer  than  mortals  think, 
When  they  look  with  trembling  dread, 
At  the  misty  future  that  stretches  on, 
From  the  silent  home  of  the  dead. 

Tis  no  lonely  isle  on  a  boundless  main, 

No  brilliant,  but  distant  shore, 
Where  the  lovely  ones  who  are  called  away, 

Must  go  to  return  no  more. 

No,  heaven  is  near  us :  the  mighty  vail 

Of  mortality  blinds  the  eye, 
That  we  can  not  see  the  angel  bands 

On  the  shores  of  eternity. 

The  eye  that  shuts  in  a  dying  hour, 

Will  open  the  next  in  bliss  ; 
The  welcome  will  sound  in  the  heavenly  world 

Ere  the  farewell  is  hushed  in  this. 

We  pass  from  the  clasp  of  mourning  friends. 

To  the  arms  of  the  loved  and  lost ; 
And  those  smiling  faces  will  greet  us  there, 

Which  on  earth  we  have  valued  most. 

Tet  oft  in  the  hours  of  holy  thought, 

To  the  thirsting  soul  is  given, 
That  power  to  pierce  through  the  mist  of  sense, 

To  the  beauteous  scenes  of  heaven. 
868 


FALLING  LEAVES — Typical  of  the  Autumn  of  Life. 


THBEE    IS    NO    DEATH. 

Then  very  near  seem  its  pearly  gates, 

And  sweetly  its  harpings  fall ; 
Till  the  soul  is  restless  to  soar  away, 

And  longs  for  the  angel's  call. 

I  know  when  the  silver  cord  13  loosed, 

When  the  vail  is  rent  away, 
Not  long  and  dark  shall  the  passage  be, 

To  the  realm  of  endless  day. — Anonymous* 


THEKE    IS    NO    DEATH. 

Bulwer  Lytton. 
>HEKE  is  no  death  !    The  stars  go  down 

To  rise  npon  some  fairer  shore ; 
And  bright  in  Heaven's  jeweled  crown 
They  shine  forevennore.    „ 

There  is  no  death !     The  dust  we  tread 
Shall  change  beneath  the  summer  showers 

To  golden  grain  or  mellow  fruit, 
Or  rainbow-tinted  flowers. 

The  granite  rocks  disorganize 

To  feed  the  hungry  moss  they  bear, 

The  forest  leaves  drink  daily  life 
From  out  the  viewless  air. 

There  is  no  death !    The  leaves  may  fall, 
The  flowers  may  fade  and  pass  away ; 

They  only  wait  through  wintry  hours 
The  coming  of  the  May. 
x  869 


THEKE    IS    NO    DEATH. 

There  is  no  death  I    An  angel  form 
Walks  o'er  the  earth  with  silent  tread  ; 

He  bears  our  best-loved  things  away, 
And  then  we  call  them  "  dead." 

He  leaves  our  hearts  all  desolate, 

He  plucks  our  fairest,  sweetest,  flowers, 

Transplanted  into  bliss,  they  now 
Adorn  immortal  bowers. 

The  bird-like  voice,  with  joyous  tones 
Made  glad  these  scenes  of  sin  and  strife, 

Sings  now  an  everlasting  song 
Amid  the  tree  of  life. 

And  where  he  sees  a  smile  too  bright, 
Or  hearts  too  pure  for  taint  and  vice, 

He  bears  it  to  that  world  of  light, 
To  dwell  in  Paradise. 

Bom  unto  that  undying  life, 

They  leave  us  but  to  come  again ; 

"With  joy  we  welcome  them — the  same, 
Except  in  sin  and  pain. 

And  ever  near  us,  though  unseen, 
The  dear,  immortal  spirits  tread ; 

For  all  the  boundless  universe 
Is  life — there  is  no  dead. 
870 


OUB    FRIENDS    IN    HEAVEN. 

[OW  beautiful  is  the  belief  of  man's  immortality!  The  dead 
alive  again,  and  forever.  "Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes, 
dust  to  dust,"  is  only  spoken  over  the  body,  when  consigned 
to  "  the  house  appointed  for  all  the  living."  Not  such  the  requiem 
of  the  soul.  A  refrain  of  immortality  concludes  earth's  history  and 
announces  eternity's  beginnings.  "Not  lost,  but  gone  before." 
Such  is  the  cherished  and  beautiful  faith  of  man  in  all  ages  and 

O 

lands ;  a  mere  glimmering  indeed  in  minds  unirradiated  with  divine 
truth ;  and  only  a  power  and  a  joy  when  God's  voice  audibly  falls 
upon  the  ear  in  words  of  counsel  and  prophecy. 

The  sainted  dead  dwell  in  life;  beholding  "the  king  in  his 
beauty ;"  shining  "  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  as  the 
stars  for  ever  and  ever."  They  fade  no  more,  nor  realize  pain ;  a 
wealth  of  love  is  theirs,  a  heritage  of  goodness,  a  celestial  habitation ; 
and  in  them  thoughts,  hopes,  feelings  expand  and  move  forward  in 
ceaseless  progressions.  We  may  feel  sad  because  they  are  lost  to  us ; 
but  while  we  weep  and  wonder,  they  are  wrapped  in  garments  of 
light  and  warble  songs  of  celestial  joy.  They  will  return  to  us  no 
more;  but  we  shall  go  to  them;  share  their  pleasures;  emulate 
their  sympathies ;  and  compete  with  them  in  the  path  of  endless 
development.  We  would  not  call  them  back.  In  the  homes  above 
they  are  great,  and  well-employed  and  blest.  Shadows  fall  upon 
them  no  more ;  nor  is  life  ruffled  with  anxious  cares ;  love  rules  their 
Life  and  thoughts ;  and  eternal  hopes  beckon  them  forever  to  the 
pursuit  of  infinite  good. 

To  whom  are  these  thoughts  strange  and  dull?  Who  has  no 

371 


OUR     FRIENDS    IN    HEAVEN. 

treasure  in  Heaven — well-remembered  forms  hallowed  by  separation 
and  distance — stars  of  hope  illumining  with  ever  increasing  beauty 
life's  utmost  horizon  ?  What  family  circle  has  remained  unbroken 
— no  empty  chair — no  cherished  mementoes — voices  and  footsteps 
returning  no  more — no  members  transferred  to  the  illimitable 
beyond  ?  Where  is  he  who  has  stood  unhurt  amid  the  chill  blasts, 
that  have  blighted  mortal  hopes,  and  withered  mortal  loves  ?  Alas  ! 
the  steps  of  death  are  everywhere ;  his  voice  murmuring  in  every 
sweep  of  the  wind  ;  his  ruins  visible  on  towering  hill  and  in  seques- 
tered vale.  We  all  have  felt  or  seen  his  power.  Beneath  l^ie 
cypress  we  rest  and  weep ;  our  hearts  riven  with  memories  of  the 
loved  and  lost ;  and  yet  hope  springing  eternal  from  earth's  mauso- 
leums to  penetrate  and  possess  the  future. 

Heaven  is  ours ;  for  is  it  not  occupied  by  our  dead  ?  Heaven 
and  earth  lay  near  together  in  the  myths  of  the  ancients ;  and  shall 
it  be  otherwise  in  the  institutions  of  Christianity  ?  We  need  faith. 
Our  paths  are  surrounded  by  the  departed;  our  assemblies  multi- 
plied by  their  presence ;  our  lives  bettered  by  their  ministries. 
From  beneath  night  shadows  we  look  forward  into  the  approaching 
day ;  and  while  we  gaze  the  beams  of  the  morning  spread  light  and 
loveliness  over  the  earth.  It  is  not  otherwise,  as  from  beneath  the 
night  of  time  we  peer  anxiously  after  the  pure  day  of  Heaven. 

Faith  penetrates  the  vail,  and  bids  the  invisible  stand  disclosed ; 
while  its  magic  wand  wakens  into  life  forms  well-known,  but  holier 
and  lovelier  far  than  we  knew  them  here.  Such  thoughts  make  us 
better,  purer,  gentler.  We  cannot  keep  society  with  the  sainted 
dead,  and  with  the  great  God  in  whose  presence  they  dwell,  without 
feeling  a  nobler  life  throbbing  through  us.  They  draw  us  upward. 
We  grow  less  earthly,  more  heavenly ;  and  God-like  aspirations 
come  to  us,  as  we  wander  along  the  border  land  where  dwell  the 
sainted  dead.  Too  little  do  we  seek  such  communings.  Our  time 

372 


DUE     FRIENDS    IN    HEAVEN. 

is  so  absorbed  with  perishable  and  unsatisfying  forms  of  good ;  and 
so  we  lose  the  image  of  the  heavenly,  and  grow  carnal.  The  beanty 
of  our  life  fades ;  and  we  are  left  to  hanker  after  passing  shadows 
and  unsubstantial  dreams.  Let  us  tear  away  oftener  from  these 
earthly  moorings  ;  let  us  walk  more  steadily  in  the  light  of  celestial 
companionship;  and  so  attain  to  the  true  and  the  good,  as  they 
have  attained  who  roam  the  hills  of  immortality. 

"  They  dwell  with  thee— the  dead ; 
Pavilioned  in  auroral  tents  of  light ; 
Their  spheres  of  heavenly  influence  round  thee  spread, 
Their  pure  transparence  vailing  them  from  sight, 
Angelic  ministers  of  love  and  peace, 
Whose  sweet  solicitudes  will  never  cease." 

Communion  by  faith  with  the  immortals  can  not  fail  to 
strengthen  us  for  the  stern  conflicts  of  life.  At  once  this  earthly 
existence  is  seen  in  its  true  light ;  the  opening  of  a  day  that  shall 
never  close ;  the  spring-time  of  a  year  that  will  know  no  end,  the 
initial  chapter  in  a  volume  whose  records  shall  find  no  final  page 
nor  incident.  When  life  is  thus  truly  gauged,  we  learn  to  place  a 
proper  estimate  upon  its  passing  pomps  and  pleasures ;  and  we  grow 
less  sensitive  to  the  world's  smiles  and  frowns ;  more  careful  to  seek 
after  the  eternal  good.  The  example  of  the  sainted  dead,  who 
toiled  and  endured  till  they  now  reign,  affects  us;  and  we  feel 
strong  for  like  conflicts,  and  ready  for  equal  labors,  till  in  us  too  the 
mortal  shall  put  on  the  immortal.  Divine  ties  spring  up,  and  last 
forever,  binding  the  heart  to  the  good,  the  beautiful,  the  true,  and 
making  it  strong  for  the  work  and  trials  of  life. 

And  communion  with  the  dead,  whom  we  have  known  and 
loved  on  earth,  will  make  Heaven  more  real  and  attractive  to  us ; 
dissipating  the  vagueness  of  the  notion  with  which  it  is  too  often 
regarded;  begetting  within  us  abiding  attachments  for  celestial 

373 


MINISTERING    ANGELS. 

Beats.  God,  who  created  the  world,  and  whose  providence  is  every- 
where visible  in  promoting  our  welfare,  is  there ;  and  Jesus,  who 
died  for  us,  and  with  whom  we  have  grown  familiar  in  his  earthly 
history ;  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  sanctifier  of  the  church,  and  whose 
gentle  influences  we  have  felt  within  us.  And  our  friends  are  there, 
— changeless,  loving  spirits  now, — yet  with  lineaments  familiar  and 
forms  well  remembered.  The  homes  of  the  blest  are  no  longer 
vague,  indistinct,  poorly  defined.  We  see  them — the  beautiful  city, 
the  outlined  hilk  of  immortality — the  on-flowing  river  making  glad 
the  palaces  of  God.  And  we  can  have  an  idea  of  what  they  must  be 
— how  substantial  in  their  foundations — how  vast  in  their  propor- 
tions— how  rich  in  their  furnishings — to  be  fitting  habitations  for 
the  immortals.  Heaven  comes  nearer  to  us,  and  grows  more  attrac- 
tive, as  we  think  of  the  loved  ones  who  dwell  there. — Anonymous, 


MOTSTEKING    ANGELS. 

>HE  beautiful  have  gone  with  their  bloom  from  the  gaze  of 
human  eyes.  Soft  eyes  that  made  it  springtime  to  our 
hearts  are  seen  no  more.  We  have  loved  the  light  of  many 
a  smile  that  has  faded  from  us  now ;  and  in  our  hearts  have  lingered 
sweet  voices  that  now  are  hushed  in  the  silence  of  death.  Seats  are 
left  vacant  in  our  earthly  homes,  which  none  again  can  fill.  Kindred 
and  friends,  loved  ones,  have  passed  away  one  by  one ;  our  hearts 
are  left  desolate ;  we'  are  lonely  without  them.  They  have  passed 
with  their  love  to  "that  land,  from  whose  bourne  no  traveler 
returns."  Shall  we  never  see  them  again?  Memory  turns  with 
lingering  regret  to  recall  those  smiles  and  the  loved  tones  of  those 

874 


MINISTERING    ANGELS. 

dear  familiar  voices.  In  fancy  they  are  often  by  our  side,  but  their 
home  is  on  a  brighter  shore.  They  visit  us  in  our  dreams,  floating 
over  our  memory  like  shadows  over  moonlit  waters.  When  the 
heart  is  weary  with  anguish,  and  the  soul  is  bowed  with  grief,  do 
they  not  come  and  whisper  thoughts  of  comfort  and  hope  ?  Yes, 
sweet  memory  brings  them  to  us,  and  the  love  we  bore  them  lifts 
the  heart  from  earthly  aspirations  and  we  long  to  join  them  in  that 
better  land.  They  hover  round  us,  the  ethereal,  dear,  departed  ones 
—the  loving  and  the  loved,  they  watch  with  eyes  that  slumber  not. 
When  gentle  dreams  are  wandering  to  the  angel  land,  in  whispers 
wake  the  hymning  strains  of  that  bright  and  happy  choir,  revealing 
many  a  tale  of  hope,  and  bliss,  and  tenderness,  and  love.  They  tell 
of  sunny  realms,  ne'er  viewed  by  mortal  eye — of  forms  arrayed  in 
fadeless  beauty — and  lofty  anthems  to  their  great  Creator's  praise 
are  sounded  forth  in  sweet,  seraphic  numbers.  And  this  bright 
vision  of  the  blest  dissolves  the  tumult  of  life's  jarring  scenes ;  they 
fade  in  air,  and  then  we  glory  in  the  thought  that  we  are  heirs  of 
immortality.  And  why  is  it  that  we  regard  with  such  deep  rever- 
ence and  love,  those  bright,  celestial  beings  of  another  sphere  ?  Ah, 
it  is  because  they  take  an  interest  in  our  welfare,  and  joy  over  our 
success  in  the  great  battle  of  life.  They  are  not  selfish  in  their  hap- 
piness, but  fain  would  have  us  share  it  with  them. — Kwgswoood 
Chronicle. 


''E  have,  amid  all  changes,  three  unchangeables — an  unchange- 
able covenant,  an  unchangeable  God,  and  an  unchangeable 
heaven  ;  and  while  these  three  remain  "  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever,"  welcome  the  will  of  our  Heavenly  Father  in 
all  events  that  may  happen  to  us.  Come  what  will,  nothing  can 
come  amiss.  Rw-  Matthew  Henry. 

875 


THE    STAKLESS    CKOWN. 

J.  L.  H. 

2AKEED  and  worn  with  earthly  care,  I  yielded  to  repose, 
And  soon  before  my  raptured  sight  a  glorious  vision  rose. 
I  thought,  while  slumbering  on  my  couch  in  midnight's 

solemn  gloom, 

I  heard  an  angel's  silvery  voice,  and  radiance  filled  my  room. 
A  gentle  touch  awakened  me ;  a  gentle  whisper  said, 
"  Arise,  O  sleeper,  follow  me  !"  and  through  the  air  we  fled  : 
We  left  the  earth  so  far  away  that  like  a  speck  it  seemed, 
And  heavenly  glory,  calm  and  pure,  across  our  pathway  streamc«l 

Still  on  he  went ;  my  soul  was  wrapped  in  silent  ecstasy  ; 

I  wondered  what  the  end  would  be,  what  next  would  meet  my  eye. 

I  knew  not  how  we  journeyed  through  the  pathless  fields  of  light, 

When  suddenly  a  change  was  wrought,  and  I  was  clothed  in  white. 

We  stood  before  a  city's  walls,  most  glorious  to  behold ; 

We  passed  through  streets  of  glittering  pearl,  o'er  streets  of  purest 

gold. 

It  needed  not  the  sun  by  day,  nor  silver  moon  by  night ; 
Tl>e  glory  of  the  Lord  was  there,  the  Lamb  himself  its  light. 

Bright  angels  paced  the  shining  streets,  sweet  music  filled  the  air, 
A  ad  white-robed  saints,  with  glittering  crowns,  from  every  clime 

were  there ; 
A  ad  some  that  I  had  loved  on  earth  stood  with  them  round  the 

throne. 

"  All  worthy  is  the  Lamb,"  they  sang,  "the  glory  His  alone." 

876 


THE    STABLESS    OEOWN. 

But,  fairer  far  than  all  beside,  I  saw  my  Saviour's  face, 

And  as  I  gazed,  He  smiled  on  me,  with  wondrous  love  and  grace, 

Slowly  I  bowed  before  His  throne,  o'erjoyed  that  I  at  last 

Had  gained  the  object  of  my  hopes,  that  earth  at  length  was  past. 

And  then  in  solemn  tones  He  said,  "  Where  is  the  diadem 
That  ought  to  sparkle  on  thy  brow,  adorned  with  many  a  gem  ? 
I  know  thou  hast  believed  on  Me,  and  life,  through  Me,  is  thine, 
But  where  are  all  those  radiant  stars  that  in  thy  crown  should  shine  I 
Yonder  thou  seest  a  glorious  throng,  and  stars  on  every  brow ; 
For  every  soul  they  led  to  me,  they  wear  a  jewel  now ; 
And  such  thy  bright  reward  had  been,  if  such  had  been  thy  deed, 
If  thou  hadst  sought  some  wandering  feet  in  paths  of  peace  to  lead, 

"  I  did  not  mean  that  thou  should'st  tread  the  way  of  life  alone, 
But  that  the  clear  and  shining  light  which  round  thy  footsteps  shone 
Should  guide  some  other  weary  feet  to  my  bright  home  of  rest, 
And  thus  in  blessing  those  around,  thou  had'st  thyself  been  blest." 
The  vision  faded  from  my  sight ;  the  voice  no  longer  spake ; 
A  spell  seemed  brooding  o'er  my  soul,  which  long  I  feared  to  break, 
And  when  at  last  I  gazed  around,  in  morning's  glimmering  light, 
My  spirit  fell,  o'erwhelmed  amid  that  vision's  awful  night. 

I  rose  and  wept  with  chastened  joy  that  yet  I  dwelt  below — 
That  yet  another  hour  was  mine,  my  faith  by  works  to  show, 
That  yet  some  sinner  I  might  tell  of  Jesus'  dying  love, 
And  help  to  lead  some  weary  soul  to  seek  a  home  above. 
And  now  while  on  the  earth  I  stay,  my  motto  this  shall  be, . 
"  To  live  no  longer  to  myself,  but  Him  who  died  for  me." 
And  graven  on  my  inmost  soul  this  word  of  true  divine, 
"  They  that  turn  many  to  the  Lord  bright  as  the  stars  shall  shine." 

877 


OUR    SHEAVES    WITH    US." 

Elizabeth  Afors. 

>HE  time  for  toil  is  past,  and  night  has  come, 
The  last  and  saddest  of  the  harvest  eves ; 
"Worn  out  with  labor  long  and  wearisome, 
Drooping  and  faint,  the  reapers  hasten  home, 
Each  laden  with  his  sheaves. 

Last  of  the  laborers,  Thy  feet  I  gain, 
Lord  of  the  harvest !  and  my  spirit  grieves 
That  I  am  burdened,  not  so  much  with  grain 
As  with  a  heaviness  of  heart  and  brain  ; — • 
Master,  behold  my  sheaves  1 

Few,  light,  and  worthless — yet  their  trifling  weight 
Through  all  my  frame  a  weary  aching  leaves ; 
For  long  I  struggled  with  my  hapless  fate, 
And  staid  and  toiled  till  it  was  dark  and  late, 
Yet  these  are  all  my  sheaves  ! 

Full  well  I  know  I  have  more  tares  than  wheat, 
Brambles  and  flowers,  dry  stalks  and  withered  leaves ; 
Wherefore  I  blush  and  weep,  as  at  Thy  feet 
I  kneel  down  reverently,  and  repeat, 

Master,  behold  my  sheaves  I 

I  know  these  blossoms,  clustering  heavily 
With  evening  dew  upon  their  folded  leaves, 
Can  claim  no  value  nor  utility ; 
Therefore  shall  fragrancy  and  beauty  be 
The  glory  of  my  sheaves. 
378 


THE    SHORE    OF    ETERNITY. 


So  do  I  gather  strength  and  hope  anew ; 
For  well  I  know  Thy  patient  love  perceives 
Not  what  I  did,  but  what  I  strove  to  do — 
And  though  the  full,  ripe  ears  be  sadly  few, 
Thou  wilt  accept  my  sheaves. 


THE    SHORE    OF    ETERNITY. 

P.  W.  Faber,  D.D. 

LONE  I  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore, 
With  no  one  sight  that  we  have  ever  seen  before ; 
Things  of  a  different  hue. 
And  the  sounds  all  new, 
And  fragrances  so  sweet  the  soul  may  faint. 
Alone  !     Oh,  that  first  hour  of  being  a  saint. 

Alone  I  to  land  upon  that  shore, 

On  which  no  wavelets  lisp,  no  billows  roar, 

Perhaps  no  shape  of  ground, 

Perhaps  no  sight  or  sound, 
No  forms  of  earth  our  fancies  to  arrange — 
But  to  begin,  alone,  that  mighty  change  I 

Alone  1  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore, 
Knowing  so  well  we  can  return  no  more  ; 

No  voice  or  face  of  friend, 

None  with  us  to  attend 
Our  disembarking  on  that  awful  strand, 
But  to  arrive  alone  in  such  a  land ! 

379 


THE     SHORE    OF    ETERNITY. 

Alone  1  to  land  alone  upon  that  shore  1 
To  begin  alone  to  live  f  orevermore, 

To  have  no  one  to  teach 

The  manners  or  the  speech 
Of  that  new  life,  or  pnt  us  at  our  ease  ; 
Oh  I  that  we  might  die  in  pairs  or  companies  I 

Alone  ?    The  God  we  know  is  on  that  shore, 
The  God  of  whose  attractions  we  know  more 

Than  of  those  who  may  appear 

Nearest  and  dearest  here  ; 
Oh,  is  He  not  the  life-long  friend  we  know 
More  privately  than  any  friend  below  ? 

Alone  ?    The  God  we  trust  is  on  that  shore, 
The  Faithful  One  whom  we  have  trusted  more 

In  trials  and  in  woes 

Than  we  have  trusted  those 
OA  whom  we  leaned  most  in  our  earthly  strife  ; 
Oh,  we  shall  trust  Him  more  in  that  new  life  1 

Alone  ?    The  God  we  love  is  on  that  shore — 
Love  not  enough,  yet  whom  we  love  far  more, 

And  whom  we  loved  all  through 

And  with  a  love  more  true 
Than  other  loves — yet  now  shall  love  Him  more ; 
True  love  of  Him  begins  upon  that  shore  I 

So  not  alone  we  land  upon  that  shore ; 
'Twill  be  as  though  we  had  been  there  before ; 

We  shall  meet  more  we  know 

Than  we  can  meet  below, 
And  find  our  rest  like  some  returning  dove, 
And  be  at  home  at  once  with  our  Eternal  love. 


HYMNS    OF     LONGING     FOB    REST. 

Theodore  L.  Ouyltr,D.D. 

THAT  I  had  wings  like  a  dove,  for  then  would  I  fly  away, 
and  be  at  rest  1 "  The  reference  in  this  beautiful  verse  is  to 
the  turtle-dove  of  Palestine,  a  bird  of  such  free  spirit  that 
if  confined  in  a  cage,  it  soon  droops  ami  dies.  How  often  the  child 
of  God  breathes  this  yearning  aspiration  for  a  higher  and  a  holier 
atmosphere.  How  often,  in  seasons  of  grief  and  disappointment,  and 
utter  disgust  with  the  inconsistency  of  our  fellow-creatures,  the 
homesick  heart  pines  for  escape  into  the  very  bosom  of  Jesus.  For 
there  only  is  rest,  full,  sweet,  and  all-satisfying. 

This  aspiration  is  not  only  breathed  in  prayer.  It  is  uttered  in 
song.  Many  of  our  richest  hymns  are  prayers  in  metre.  And  few 
yearnings  break  forth  oftener  in  the  psalmodies  of  God's  people  than 
the  yearning  for  soul-rest.  Of  the  hymns  that  are  pitched  to  this 
key  we  might  mention  many.  Of  the  hymnists  who  have  composed 
them,  none  is  more  celebrated  than  James  Montgomery. 

He  is  the  Cowper  of  the  nineteenth  century — not  in  the  poetry 
of  nature,  but  in  sacred  song.  Scotland  gave  him  birth,  as  she  did 
to  Henry  Lyte  and  Horatius  Bonar.  He  was  born  in  Ayrshire,  the 
land  of  Robert  Burns,  in  1771.  His  father  was  a  Moravian  mission- 
ary, who  labored  and  died  in  the  West  Indies.  James  united  with 
the  Moravian  Church  at  the  age  of  forty-three,  and  his  memory  is 
held  in  high  veneration  among  that  small,  but  true-hearted  band  of 
Christians.  The  Moravian  body  is  like  a  tuberose,  small  in  bulk, 
but  sends  its  sweet  odors  afar  off.  With  this  communion  Montgo- 
mery worshiped  until  in  his  later  years,  and  then  he  attended  an 
Evangelical  Episcopal  church  (St.  George's)  in  Sheffield,  England. 

881 


HYMNS    OF     LONGING    FOB    BEST. 

During  my  student  days  I  spent  some  time  at  Sheffield,  and 
often  met  the  venerable  poet.  He  was  small  of  stature,  with  hair  as 
white  as  snow.  Although  he  had  long  been  an  editor  (and  once 
been  imprisoned  for  his  bold  utterances  in  his  newspaper,  the  Iris), 
he  would  be  easily  mistaken  for  a  clergyman.  He  wore  an  exceed- 
ingly conspicuous  white  cravat,  which  reached  close  to  his  chin,  and 
gave  you  the  impression  that  he  was  suffering  from  a  chronic  sore 
throat.  "When  I  first  called  on  him  at  his  residence,  "  The  Mount," 
several  of  his  most  familiar  lines  began  to  repeat  themselves  to  me, 
such  as : 

"  Friend  after  friend  departs, 
Who  hath  not  lost  a  friend  I" 

And  that  other  exquisite  verse  which  often  weaves  itself  into  our 
secret  devotions : 

"  Here  in  the  body  pent, 

Absent  from  Him  I  roam, 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent, 
One  day's  march  nearer  home." 

There  are  few  finer  verses  in  the  whole  range  of  devotional 
poetry.  It  is  a  pilgrim's  wayfaring  song,  as  he  pulls  up  the  tent- 
pins  every  morning,  and  moves  onward  towards  his  everlasting  rest. 

Montgomery  never  visited  this  country,  but  he  was  full  of  warm 
enthusiasm  toward  America,  in  whose  churches  his  hymns  are  sung 
every  Sabbath.  He  was  also  full  of  honest  indignation  that  so  many 
people  would  persist  in  confounding  him  with  the  spasmodic  Robert 
Montgomery,  whose  poem  on  "  Satan "  has  been  impaled,  like  a 
buzzing  beetle  on  a  pin,  by  the  sharp  pen  of  Macaulay.  "  Only 
think,"  said  the  dear  old  poet  to  me,  "  that  I  should  have  just  got  a 
letter,  telling  me  that  my  poem  on  Satan  is  the  best  I  ever  wrote." 
I  do  not  wonder  that  his  wrath  waxed  warm  under  such  an  imputa- 
tion. The  last  time  I  ever  saw  the  veteran,  he  was  sitting  in  his 

382 


HYMNS    OF     LONGING    FOB    BEST. 

pew  at  St.  George's,  the  «  good  gray  head  "  bending  reverently  over 
his  prayer-book,  as  he  joined  in  the  responses.  He  "  flew  away  and 
was  at  rest "  in  1854,  at  the  ripe  old  age  of  eighty-three. 

Montgomery's  most  popular  hymn  is  that  one  which  breathes  ont 
the  longing  of  a  weary  heart : 

"O  where  shall  rest  be  found, 
Rest  for  the  weary  soul  ? 
'Twere  vain  the  ocean  depths  to  sound 
Or  pierce  to  either  pole." 

Ten  thousand  times  have  God's  best  beloved  children,  when 
made  sick  at  the  worthlessness  and  emptiness  of  worldly  treasures, 
broke  out  in  the  fervid  protestation : 

"This  world  can  never  give 

The  bliss  for  which  I  sigh  ; 
"Pis  not  the  whole  of  life  to  live, 
Nor  all  of  death  to  die." 

Of  Montgomery's  other  favorite  hymns,  "Prayer  is  the  Soul's 
Sincere  Desire,"  and  "  What  are  these  in  Bright  Array  ?"  I  wish  I 
had  space  to  speak.  But  we  must  confine  ourselves  in  this  brief 
article  to  those  songs  of  Zion  which  are  full  of  longings  for  the 
better  life  and  the  better  land. 

Of  this  class  of  hymns  there  is  one  which  everybody  knows,  and 
everybody  sings,  and  yet  almost  nobody  knows  its  authorship,  for 
Robert  Seagrwe  is  one  of  God's  "  hidden  ones  "  from  all  celebrity  in 
the  world  of  letters.  He  was  a  minister  of  the  English  Established 
Church,  but  being  a  caged  dove  there,  he  broke  loose  into  dissent. 
This  unfettered  spirit  of  his  gave  birth  to  that  vigorous  hymn 
whose  uplift  has  carried  us  often  into  the  higher  climes : 

"  Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings, 

Thy  better  portion  trace  ; 
Rise  from  transitory  things, 
Towards  heaven,  thy  native  place." 
883 


AT    EVENTIDE    IT    SHALL    BE    LIGHT. 

Seagrave  sang  this  one  bird-song  about  the  year  1748,  but  I 
never  heard  that  he  sang  again;  but  his  inspiring  lyric  is  ringing 
yet,  like  the  notes  of  a  lark  at  the  gates  of  heaven.  Probably  all  the 
sermons  preached  that  year  throughout  Christendom  have  not  lifted 
so  many  souls  towards  the  gates  of  pearl  as  that  single  melody  of 
Robert  Seagrave.  We  must  all  seek  to  become  acquainted  with  him 
in  our  Father's  house. 

Yes,  and  we  shall  all  love  to  know  Horatius  Bonar  there,  and 
thank  him  for  his  many  hymns  so  full  of  heavenward  aspiration. 
Another  songstress  from  our  own  land,  too,  who  has  lately  flown 
above  the  clouds — sweet,  sorrowful  Phebe  Gary.  For  she  taught  us 
all  to  sing,  amid  our  care-burdens  and  our  crosses : 

"  One  sweetly  solemn  thought, 
Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er  ; 
I  am  nearer  home  to-day, 
Than  I  ever  have  been  before." 


AT    EVENTIDE    IT    SHALL    BE    LIGHT. 

age,"  says  one  whose  words  have  survived  his  name,  "  is 
a  blessed  time,  when  looking  back  over  the  follies,  sins,  and 
mistakes  of  past  life — too  late,  indeed,  to  remedy,  but  not 
too  late  to  repent — we  may  put  off  earthly  garments  one  by  one,  and 
dress  ourselves  for  heaven.  Griefs  that  are  heavy  to  the  young  are 
to  the  old  calm  and  almost  joyful,  as  tokens  of  the  near  and  ever- 
nearing  time  when  there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor 
crying,  neither  any  more  pain."  Even  though  walking  in  darkness 
for  awhile,  the  aged  have  the  sure  promise,  "  At  eventide  it  shall  be 
light." — Anonym&us. 

884 


BEUNION    IN    HEAVEN. 

Fro.  Morley  Punthon. 

[EAVEN  is  not  a  solitude ;  it  is  a  peopled  city,  a  city  in  which 
there  are  no  strangers,  no  homeless,  no  poor,  where  one  does 
not  pass  another  in  the  street  without  greeting,  where  no  one 
is  envious  of  another's  minstrelsy  or  of  another's  more  brilliant 
crown.  When  God  said  in  the  ancient  Eden,  "  It  is  not  good  for 
man  to  be  alone,"  there  was  a  deeper  signification  in  the  words  than 
could  be  exhausted  or  explained  by  the  family  tie.  It  was  the 
declaration  of  an  essential  want  which  the  Creator  in  His  highest 
wisdom  has  impressed  upon  the  noblest  of  His  works.  That  is  not 
life — you  don't  call  that  life — where  the  hermit  in  some  moorland 
glade  drags  out  a  solitary  existence,  or  where  the  captive  in  some 
cell  of  bondage  frets  and  pines  unseen  ?  That  man  does  not  under- 
stand solitude. 

Life,  all  kinds  of  life,  tends  to  companionship,  and  rejoices  in  it, 
from  the  larvae  and  buzzing  insect  cloud  up  to  the  kingly  lion  and 
the  kinglier  man.  It  is  a  social  state  into  which  we  are  to  be 
introduced,  as  well  as  a  state  of  consciousness.  Not  only,  therefore, 
does  the  Saviour  pray  for  His  disciples,  "  Father,  I  will  that  those 
whom  thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me  where  I  am,  that  they  may 
behold  my  glory,"  but  those  who  are  in  that  heavenly  recompense 
are  said  to  have  come  "  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
first-born  written  in  heaven."  Aye,  and  better  than  that,  and  dearer 
to  some  of  us,  "  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect." 

The  question  of  the  recognition  of  departed  friends  in  heaven, 
Mid  special  and  intimate  reunion  with  them,  Scripture  and  reason 
T  886 


WHAT    MUST    IT    BE    TO    BE    THERE? 

enable  us  to  infer  with  almost  absolute  certainty.  It  is  implied  in 
the  fact  that  the  resurrection  is  a  resurrection  of  individuals,  that 
it  is  this  mortal  that  shall  put  on  immortality.  It  is  implied  in  the 
fact  that  heaven  is  a  vast  and  happy  society ;  and  it  is  implied  in 
the  fact  that  there  is  no  unclothing  of  nature  that  we  possess,  only 
the  clothing  upon  it  of  the  garments  of  a  brighter  and  more  glorious 
immortality. 

Take  comfort,  then,  those  of  you  in  whose  history  the  dearest 
charities  of  lif  e  have  been  severed  by  the  rude  hand  of  death,  those 
whom  you  have  thought  about  as  lost  are  not  lost,  except  to  present 
right.  Perhaps  even  now  they  are  angel  watchers,  screened  by  a 
kindly  Providence  from  everything  about,  that  would  give  you  pain ; 
but  if  you  and  they  are  alike,  in  Jesus,  and  remain  faithful  to  the 
end,  doubt  not  that  you  shall  know  them  again.  It  were  strange, 
don't  you  think,  if  amid  the  multitude  of  earth's  ransomed  ones  that 
we  are  to  see  in  heaven,  we  should  see  all  but  those  we  most  fondly 
and  fervently  long  to  see  ?  Strange,  if  in  some  of  our  walks  along 
the  golden  streets,  we  never  happen  to  light  upon  them  ?  Strange, 
if  we  did  not  hear  some  heaven  song,  learned  on  earth,  trilled  by 
wine  clear  ringing  voice  that  we  have  often  heard  before  ? 


WHAT  MUST   IT    BE   TO    BE   THEKE! 

Mn.  Elizabeth  Mdl*. 

speak  of  the  realms  of  the  blessed, 

Of  that  country  so  bright  and  so  fair  ; 
And  oft  are  its  beauties  confessed — 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there  ? 
886 


JOY    IN    THE    MORNING. 

We  speak  of  its  pathways  of  gold, 

Of  its  walls  decked  with  jewels  BO  rare, 

Of  its  wonders  and  pleasure  untold—- 
But what  must  it  be  to  be  there  I 

"We  speak  of  its  service  of  love, 
The  robes  which  the  glorified  wear, 

The  Church  of  the  First-born  above — 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there  ? 

We  speak  of  its  freedom  from  sin, 
From  sorrow,  temptation,  and  care, 

From  trials  without  and  within — 
But  what  must  it  be  to  be  there  ? 

Do  thou,  Lord,  midst  pleasure  or  woe, 
For  heaven  our  spirits  prepare ; 

Then  soon  shall  we  joyfully  know 
And  feel  what  it  is  to  be  there. 


JOY  IN  THE  MORNING— Ps.  m.  &. 

Beo.  Dwiffht  WiU.\ 

CHOUGH  dark  the  night  and  dreary, 
And  eyes  that  watch  are  weary, 
The  daylight  cometh  after 
With  song  and  love  and  laughter, 
And  down  the  mountains  cold 
The  sunlight  pours  its  gold. 
887 


JOY    IN    THE     MOBNING. 

If  while  the  world  is  sleeping, 
Lone  vigils  thou  art  keeping, 
And  midnight  skies  are  stooping, 
O'er  thee  in  sadness  drooping, 
This  know,  the  King  of  light 
Is  speeding  in  his  flight. 

He  cometh  from  his  chamber, 
O'er  paths  of  gold  and  amber ; 
The  gates  are  backward  swinging, 
The  morning  chime  is  ringing ; 
He  comes  with  wheels  of  fire, 
And  steeds  that  never  tire. 

Poor  soul,  in  storm  o'ertaken, 
"With  cold  and  hunger  shaken  1 
The  conqueror  is  riding, 
The  night  itself  is  hiding, 
And  flies  in  swift  dismay, 
O'er  the  mountains  far  away. 

Christian,  a  royal  weeper 

Is  evermore  thy  keeper ; 

The  night  he  passed  in  waiting, 

From  dark  to  light  translating, 
Hath  brought  the  matin  song 
And  thou  shall  listen  long. 


r|\HJC  most  important  thought  I  ever  had  was  that  of  my  personal 
to  God.  Darnel  Webster. 


THE    SUNSET    HOUR    OF    LIFE. 

>HE  stream  is  calmest  when  it  nears  the  tide, 
And  flowers  are  sweetest  at  the  eventide, 
And  birds  most  musical  at  close  of  day. 
And  saints  divinest  when  they  pass  away. 

Morning  is  holy,  but  a  holier  charm 
Lies  folded  close  in  evening's  robes  of  balm, 
And  weary  man  must  ever  love  her  best, 
For  morning  calls  to  toil,  but  night  to  rest. 

She  comes  from  Heaven,  and  on  her  wings  doth  bear 
A  holy  fragrance,  like  the  breath  of  prayer ; 
Footsteps  of  angels  follow  in  her  trace, 
To  shut  the  weary  eyes  of  day  in  peace. 

All  things  are  hushed  before  her  as  she  throws 
O'er  earth  and  sky  her  mantle  of  repose ; 
There  is  a  calmer  beauty  and  a  power 
That  morning  knows  not,  in  the  evening  hour. 

Until  the  evening  we  must  weep  and  toil — 
Plow  life's  stern  furrow,  dig  the  weedy  soil — 
Tread  with  sad  feet  our  rough  and  thorny  way, 
And  bear  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day. 

Oh !  when  our  sun  is  setting  may  we  glide, 
Like  summer  evening  down  the  golden  tide ; 
And  leave  behind  us,  as  we  pass  away, 
Sweet,  starry  twilight  round  our  sleeping  clay. 

— Anonynunu. 


THE    JOY    OF    INCOMPLETENESS. 

all  our  lives  were  one  broad  glare 

Of  sunlight,  clear,  unclouded ; 
If  all  our  path  were  smooth  and  fair, 

By  no  soft  gloom  enshrouded ; 
If  all  life's  flowers  were  fully  blown 

Without  the  sweet  unfolding, 
And  happiness  were  rudely  thrown 

On  hands  too  weak  for  holding, 
Should  we  not  miss  the  twilight  hours, 

The  gentle  haze  and  sadness  ? 
Should  we  not  long  for  storms  and  showen^ 
To  break  the  constant  gladness  ? 

If  none  were  sick  and  none  were  sad, 

What  service  could  we  render  ? 
1  think  if  we  were  always  glad, 

We  scarcely  could  be  tender. 
Did  our  beloved  never  need 

Our  patient  ministration, 
Earth  would  grow  cold,  and  miss  indeed 

Its  sweetest  consolation ; 
If  sorrow  never  claimed  our  heart, 

And  every  wish  were  granted, 
Patience  would  die,  and  hope  depart — 

Life  would  be  disenchanted. 

And  yet  in  heaven  is  no  more  night, 
In  heaven  is  no  more  sorrow  I 
390 


THERE'S  NOTHING  TRUE  BUT  HEAVEW. 

Such  unimagined  new  delight 

Fresh  grace  from  pain  will  borrow. 
As  the  poor  seed  that  underground 

Seeks  its  true  life  above  it, 
Not  knowing  what  will  there  be  found 

When  sunbeams  kiss  and  love  it ; 
80  we  in  darkness  upward  grow, 

And  look  and  long  for  heaven, 
But  cannot  picture  it  below, 

Till  more  of  light  be  given. — Swnday  Magazine. 


THEKE'S  NOTHING  TRUE  BUT  HEAVEN. 

Thomas  Monre 
>HIS  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show 

For  man's  illusion  given  ; 
The  smiles  of  joy,  the  tears  of  woe, 
Deceitful  shine,  deceitful  flow, — 
There's  nothing  true  but  Heaven ! 

And  false  the  light  on  Glory's  plume, 

As  fading  hues  of  even ; 
And  Love,  and  Hope,  and  Beauty's  bloom, 
Are  blossoms  gathered  from  the  tomb, — 

There's  nothing  bright  but  Heaven ! 

Poor  wanderers  of  a  stormy  day, 

From  wave  to  wave  we're  driven, 
And  Fancy's  flash  and  Reason's  ray 
Serve  but  to  light  the  troubled  way,— 

There's  nothing  calm  but  Heaven  1 
391 


DEPARTURE    OF    FRIENDS. 

Jamtt  Montgomery. 

[FRIEND  after  friend  departs : 
Who  hath  not  lost  a  friend  ? 
There  is  no  union  here  of  hearts, 
That  finds  not  here  an  end. 
"Were  this  frail  world  our  only  rest, 
Living  or  dying,  none  were  blest. 

Beyond  the  flight  of  time, 
Beyond  this  vale  of  death, 
There  surely  is  some  blessed  clime 
Where  life  is  not  a  breath, 
Nor  lif e's  affection  transient  fire, 
Whose  sparks  fly  upward  to  expire. 

There  is  a  world  above, 
Where  parting  is  unknown ; 
A  whole  eternity  of  love, 
Fonn'd  for  the  good  alone ; 
And  faith  beholds  the  dying  here, 
Translated  to  that  happier  shore. 

Thus  star  by  star  declines, 

Till  all  are  passed  away, 

As  morning  high  and  higher  shines, 

To  pure  and  perfect  day; 

Nor  sink  those  stars  in  empty  night, 

They  hide  themselves  in  heaven's  own  light. 

802 


NO    SECTS    OT    HEAVEN. 

Mr 3.  Elizabeth  S. 

BALKING  of  sects  quite  late  one  eve, 
What  one  and  another  of  saints  believe, 
That  night  I  stood  in  a  troubled  dream 
By  the  side  of  a  darkly-flowing  stream, 
And  a  "  churchman  "  down  to  the  river  came, 
"WTien  I  heard  a  strange  voice  call  his  name : 
"  Good  father,  stop ;  when  you  cross  this  tide 
You  must  leave  your  robes  on  the  other  side." 

But  the  aged  father  did  not  mind, 
And  his  long  gown  floated  out  behind, 
As  down  to  the  stream  his  way  he  took, 
Hi»  hands  hold  firm  of  a  gilt-edged  book. 
"  I'm  bound  for  Heaven,  and  when  I'm  there 
I  shall  want  my  Book  of  Common  Prayer ; 
And  though  I  put  on  a  starry  crown, 
I  shall  feel  quite  lost  without  my  gown." 

Then  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  shining  track, 
But  his  gown  was  heavy,  and  held  him  back ; 
And  the  poor  old  father  tried  in  vain 
A  single  step  in  the  flood  to  gain. 
I  saw  him  again  on  the  other  side, 
But  his  silk  gown  floated  on  the  tide, 
And  no  one  asked,  in  that  blissful  spot, 
If  he  belonged  to  "  the  church"  or  not 


KO    SECTS    IN    HEAVEN. 

Then  down  to  the  river  a  Quaker  strayed, 

His  dress  of  sober  hue  was  made, 

a  My  hat  and  coat  must  be  all  of  gray, 

I  cannot  go  any  other  way." 

Then  he  buttoned  his  coat  straight  up  to  his 

And  staidly,  solemnly  waded  in, 

And  his  broad-brimmed  hat  he  pulled  down  tight 

Over  his  forehead,  so  cold  and  white. 

But  a  strong  wind  carried  away  his  hat, 
And  he  sighed  a  few  moments  after  that, 
And  then,  as  he  gazed  to  the  farther  shore, 
The  coat  slipped  off  and  was  seen  no  more. 
Poor,  dying  Quaker,  thy  suit  of  gray 
Is  quietly  sailing — away — away. 
But  thou'lt  go  to  heaven  as  straight  as  an  arrow, 
Whether  thy  brim  be  broad  or  narrow. 

Next  came  Dr.  "Watts  with  a  bundle  of  psalms, 

Tied  nicely  up  in  his  aged  arms, 

And  hymns  as  many — a  very  wise  thing, 

That  the  people  in  heaven, "  all  round,"  might  sing. 

But  I  thought  he  heaved  an  anxious  sigh, 

As  he  saw  that  the  river  ran  broad  and  high  1 

And  looked  rather  surprised,  as  one  by  one, 

The  psalms  and  hymns  in  the  wave  went  down. 

And  after  him,  with  his  MSS., 
Came  Wesley,  the  pattern  of  godliness. 
But  he  cried,  "  Dear  me,  what  shall  I  do  f 
The  water  has  soaked  them  through  and  through." 
And  there,  on  the  river,  far  and  wide, 
894 


NO    SECTS    IN    HEAVEN. 

Away  they  went  on  the  swollen  tide, 

And  the  saint,  astonished,  passed  through  alono, 

Without  his  manuscripts,  up  to  the  throne. 

Then  gravely  walking,  two  saints  by  name, 

Down  to  the  stream  together  came, 

But  as  they  stopped  at  the  river's  brink, 

I  saw  one  saint  from  the  other  shrink. 

"  Sprinkled  or  plunged,  may  I  ask  you,  friend, 

How  you  attained  to  life's  great  end  ?" 

"  Thus,  with  a  few  drops  on  our  brow." 

"  But  I've  been  dipped,  as  you'll  see  me  now. 

"  And  I  really  think  it  will  hardly  do, 
As  I'm  '  close  communion,'  to  cross  with  yon, 
You're  bound,  I  know,  to  the  realms  of  bliss, 
But  you  must  go  that  way,  and  I'll  go  this." 
And  straightway  plunging  with  all  his  might, 
Away  to  the  left — his  friend  at  the  right, 
Apart  they  went  from  this  world  of  sin. 
But  how  did  the  brethren  "  enter  in  2" 

And  now  where  the  river  was  rolling  on, 
A  Presbyterian  church  went  down ; 
Of  women  there  seemed  an  innumerable  throng, 
But  the  men  I  could  count  as  they  passed  along, 
And  concerning  the  road  they  could  never  agree, 
The  old  or  the  new  way,  which  it  could  be; 
Nor  ever  a  moment  paused  to  think 
That  both  would  lead  to  the  river's  brink. 

And  a  sound  of  murmuring  long  and  loud 
Came  ever  up  from  the  moving  crowd, 


TO    SIOT8    IN    HEAVICN. 

"  You're  in  the  old  way,  and  I'm  in  the  new, 

That  is  the  false,  and  this  is  the  true," 

Or,  "  I'm  in  the  old  way,  and  you're  in  the  new, 

That  is  the  false,  and  this  is  the  true." 

But  the  brethren  only  seemed  to  speak, 

Modest  the  sisters  walked,  and  meek. 

And  if  ever  one  of  them  chanced  to  say 
What  troubles  she  met  with  on  the  way, 
How  she  longed  to  pass  to  the  other  side, 
Nor  feared  to  cross  over  the  swelling  tide, 
A  voice  arose  from  the  brethren  then, 
"  Let  no  one  speak  but  the  '  holy  men,' 
For  have  ye  not  heard  the  words  of  Paul  1 
*  Oh,  let  the  women  keep  silence  all.'  " 

I  watched  them  long  in  my  curious  dream, 
Till  they  stood  by  the  border  of  the  stream, 
Then,  just  as  I  thought,  the  two  ways  met, 
But  all  the  brethren  were  talking  yet, 
And  would  talk  on,  till  the  heaving  tide 
Carried  them  over,  side  by  side ; 
Bide  by  side,  for  the  way  was  one, 
The  toilsome  journey  of  life  was  done  ; 

And  priest  and  Quaker,  and  all*  who  died ; 

Came  out  alike  on  the  other  side ; 

No  forms,  or  crosses,  or  books  had  they, 

No  gowns  of  silk,  or  suits  of  gray  ; 

No  creeds  to  guide  them,  or  MSS., 

For  «ll  had  put  on  "  Christ's  Righteousness." 

*  A.11  seen  in  the  dream. 
896 


HEAVEN. 

P.  W.  Xtibtr,  D.D. 
|H,  what  is  this  splendor  that  beamjB  on  me  now, 

This  beautiful  sunrise  that  dawns  on  my  soul, 
While  faint  and  far  off  land  and  sea  lie  below, 
And  under  my  feet  the  huge  golden  clouds  roll! 

To  what  mighty  Tn'rig  doth  this  city  belong, 
With  its  rich  jeweled  shrines,  and  its  gardens  of  flowers, 

With  its  breaths  of  sweet  incense,  its  measures  of  song, 
And  the  light  that  is  gilding  its  numberless  towers  ? 

Bee  I  forth  from  the  gates,  like  a  bridal  array, 

Come  the  princes  of  heaven,  how  bravely  they  shine ! 

Tis  to  welcome  the  stranger,  to  show  me  the  way, 
And  to  tell  me  that  all  I  see  round  me  is  mine. 

There  are  millions  of  saints  in  their  ranks  and  degrees, 
And  each  with  a  beauty  and  crown  of  his  own ; 

And  there,  far  outnumbering  the  sands  of  the  seas, 
The  nine  rings  of  angels  encircle  the  throne. 

And  oh,  if  the  exiles  of  earth  could  but  win, 

One  sight  of  the  beauty  of  Jesus  above, 
From  that  hour  they  would  cease  to  be  able  to  sin, 

And  earth  would  be  heaven ;  for  heaven  is  love. 

But  words  may  not  tell  of  the  vision  of  peace, 
With  its  worshipful  seeming,  its  marvelous  fires ; 

897 


AKnOIPATION     OF    HEAVEN. 

Where  the  soul  is  at  large,  where  its  Borrows  all  cea^o, 
And  the  gift  has  outbidden  its  boldest  desires. 

No  sickness  is  here,  no  bleak,  bitter  cold, 
No  hunger,  debt,  prison,  or  weariful  toil ; 

No  robbers  to  rifle  our  treasures  of  gold, 
No  rust  to  corrupt,  and  no  canker  to  spoil. 

My  God !  and  it  was  but  a  short  hour  ago, 
That  I  lay  on  a  bed  of  unbearable  pains ; 

All  was  cheerless  around  me,  all  weeping  and  woe ; 
Now  the  wailing  is  changed  to  angelical  strains. 

Because  I  served  Thee,  were  life's  pleasures  all  lost  ? 

Was  it  glooin,  pain,  or  blood,  that  won  heaven  for  me! 
Oh  no  I  one  enjoyment  alone  could  life  boast, 

And  that,  dearest  Lord  1  was  my  service  of  Thee. 

I  had  hardly  to  give ;  'twas  enough  to  receive, 
Only  not  to  impede  the  sweet  grace  from  above ; 

And,  this  first  hour  in  heaven,  I  can  hardly  believe, 
In  so  great  a  reward  for  so  little  a  love. 


ANTICIPATION    OF    HEAYEN. 

Thomcu  Moor*, 
>O,  wing  thy  flight  from  star  to  star, 

From  world  to  luminous  world,  as  far 
As  the  universe  spreads  its  flaming  wall ; 

Take  all  the  pleasures  of  all  the  spheres, 

And  multiply  each  through  endless  years, 

One  minute  of  heaven  is  worth  them  all. 


A    HOME    IN    HEAVEN. 

Wittiam  Hunter. 

HOME  in  heaven  1    What  a  joyful  thought, 
As  the  poor  man  toils  in  his  weary  lot  1 
His  heart  opprest,  and  with  anguish  driven 
From  his  home  below,  to  his  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  heaven  1    As  the  sufferer  lies 
On  his  bed  of  pain,  and  uplifts  his  eyes 
To  that  bright  home ;  what  a  joy  is  given, 
With  the  blessed  thought  of  his  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  heaven !    When  our  pleasures  fade, 
And  our  wealth  and  fame  in  the  dust  are  laid, 
And  strength  decays,  and  our  health  is  riven, 
We  are  happy  still  with  our  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  heaven  I    When  the  faint  heart  bleeds, 
By  the  Spirit's  stroke,  for  its  evil  deeds ; 
Oh  1  then  what  bliss  in  that  heart  forgiven, 
Does  the  hope  inspire  of  a  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  heaven  1    When  our  friends  are  fled 
To  the  cheerless  gloom  of  the  mouldering  dead ; 
We  wait  in  hope  on  the  promise  given ; 
We  will  meet  up  there  in  our  home  in  heaven. 

A  home  in  heaven !    When  the  wheel  is  broke, 
And  the  golden  bowl  by  the  terror-stroke ; 


THOSE    MANSIONS     ABOVE. 

When  life's  bright  sun  sinks  in  death's  dark  even, 
We  will  then  fly  up  to  onr  home  in  heaven. 

Our  home  in  heaven !    Oh,  the  glorious  home, 
And  the  Spirit,  joined  with  the  bride,  says  "  Cornel* 
Gome,  seek  His  face,  and  your  sins  forgiven, 
And  rejoice  in  hope  of  your  home  in  heaven, 


THOSE    MANSIONS    ABOVE. 

* 

FOR  a  home  in  those  mansions  above ; 

O  for  a  rest  in  that  haven  of  love ; 

O  to  be  free  from  this  body  of  sin, 

This  warfare  without,  these  conflicts  within ! 

Give  me,  dear  Saviour,  a  heart  wholly  Thine, 
A  heart  that  can  feel  "  my  Beloved  is  mine," 
A  heart  that  can  say,  "  I  know  I  am  His," 
That,  ransomed  from  woe,  I  am  purchased  for  blist. 

Give  me,  .O  Father,  Thy  Spirit  Divine, 
Proving  the  purchased  possession  is  Thine, 
The  earnest  of  joys  they  only  can  know 
Who  walk  in  the  light  of  the  Spirit  below. 

On  me  then  bestow  that  armor  complete 
That  covers  the  head  and  reaches  the  feet, 
The  armor  they  wear  who  fight  the  good  fight, 
And,  having  "  done  all,"  stand  fast  in  Thy  might 

Clad  in  this  armor,  sent  down  from  above, 
Wrought  in  the  councils  of  covenant  love, 
400 


THOSE    MANSIONS    ABOVE. 

Our  aim  ever  upward,  our  hearts  all  aglow, 
Joyfully  onward  and  homeward  we  go. 

We  strain  every  nerve,  we  strive  for  the  prize 
Of  our  calling  in  Christ :  a  home  in  the  skies  : 
The  battles  all  fought,  the  victory  won, 
We  have  the  reward — "  Good  servant,  well  done ; 

"  Come,  enter  thy  home,  these  mansions  above, 
Rest  in  the  haven  of  infinite  love ; 
From  sorrow  and  sin  forever  released, 
Come  sit  with  the  guests  at  the  heavenly  feast." 

All  stains  washed  away,  in  robes  of  pure  white 
We  bask  in  His  rays,  we  shine  in  His  light ; 
The  crown  of  rejoicing  we  evermore  wear, 
The  glory  of  Christ  eternally  share. 

Make  me,  O  Father,  more  grateful  for  life, 
More  willing  to  bear  the  turmoil  and  strife, 
More  anxious  to  serve,  more  like  Him  to  be 
Who  gave  His  own  life  a  ransom  for  me. 

That,  bearing  Christ's  image,  e'en  here  below, 
My  work  done  in  Him,  His  glory  may  show, 
Till  the  summons  I  hear,  in  accents  of  love, 
"  Daughter,  come  higher,  and  serve  Me  above." 

What  glories  await  the  spirit  set  free 
From  fetters  of  earth,  untrammelled  to  be ; 
The  work  begun  here  is  continued  above, 
And  all  that  blest  life  is  service  and  love. 

— Parish  Visitor. 

•  401 


AT    HOME    IN    HEAVEN. 

Charla  F.  Deem»,  D.D. 

'ILL  any  soul  that  reaches  Heaven  feel  strange  there  ?  "Will 
it  seem  a  foreign  country  ?  "Will  all  its  sights,  and  sounds, 
and  suggestions  be  totally  unfamiliar?  "Will  they  make 
ao  responsive  note  on  any  chord  of  the  harp  of  memory?  Will 
they  shed  no  ray  of  light  on  the  lens  of  hope  ?  There  are  many  of 
us  who  are  looking  forward  to  a  residence  in  Heaven.  Will  it  be 
more  than  a  residence  ?  Will  it  be  a  home  ?  We  know  the  difference 
between  the  two  when  applied  to  places  upon  earth.  There  are 
many  kinds  of  residences ;  there  is  but  one  home.  A  lunatic  asy 
him,  a  penitentiary,  the  place  where  we  must  live,  but  do  not  want 
to  live,  is  a  residence.  The  only  real  home  a  man  has  upon  earth  is 
the  spot  in  which  he  would  rather  be  than  in  any  other.  The  place 
in  which  he  gets  most  rest,  most  comfort,  most  solace,  most  satisfac- 
tion to  every  craving  of  his  nature — that  is  home.  How  do  we  look 
forward  toward  Heaven?  Is  it  simply  the  termination  of  the 
journey,  where,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  the  pilgrimage 
ceases  ?  Such  a  state  of  affairs  may  occur  to  a  man  who  has  gone 
from  his  home,  and  whose  business  or  duty  has  taken  him  across  the 
ocean  to  a  foreign  port.  There  he  may  have  to  stay  all  the  days  of 
his  life,  and  behind  him  leave  wife  and  children,  father  and  mother. 
He  looks  forward  with  interest  to  his  arrival.  He  would  rather  be 
there  than  on  the  stormy  ocean.  But  it  is  not  home.  Now,  how 
do  we  feel  toward  Heaven  ?  Is  \  simply  the  end  of  the  road  we 
must  travel  as  Christians,  and  which  we  must  terminate  somewhere, 
sometime ;  or  have  we  longings  for  it  ?  Does  it  come  into  our 

402 


AT     HOME     IN    HEAVEN. 

-• 

dreams  ?  Do  thoughts  of  it  often  lift  our  souls  as  the  tides  lift  up 
the  seas?  Do  we  feel  that  every  other  residence  is  a  tent,  but 
heaven  is  our  mansion  ;  that  we  go  to  every  other  place  because  we 
must,  but  are  stretching  ourselves  to  be  in  heaven  because  we 
would?  Are  we  heavenly-minded  and  heavenly-hearted?  If  so, 
we  shall  be  at  home  in  Heaven.  It  may  be  so  sweet,  so  delicious,  so 
satisfactory,  so  fulfilling,  as  to  come  in  sudden  and  sublime  contrast 
with  all  our  previous  experience.  In  this  sense  it  may,  for  a  brief 
season,  be  startling  and  somewhat  strange;  but  if  we  have  been 
spiritually-minded  upon  earth,  each  new  moment  of  heaven  will 
bring  us  the  fulfillment  of  some  hope,  or  the  completion,  in  shouts 
of  laughter,  of  some  song  which  we  had  begun  upon  earth,  and 
which  had  been  drowned  in  sobs.  It  will  be  the  being  "forever 
with  the  Lord  "  that  will  make  our  heaven  everlasting. 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  ? "  Why  not  now  with  the  Lord  ?  Is 
not  our  present  life  a  part  of  "  forever  ?"  If  now  with  the  Lord — if 
our  communion  be  with  Him — if  we  are  learning  His  ways  and 
walking  in  His  companionship  here,  and  are  to  be  learning  Hia  ways 
and  walking  in  His  companionship  in  heaven,  why  should  we  not  be 
at  home  in  heaven  ? 

The  angels  come  down  to  earth.  They  have  their  mission  of 
ministry.  Their  duties  probably  take  them,  sometimes,  into  place* 
where  they  feel  very  strange ;  but  there  must  be  other  spots  amid 
the  circumstances  of  which  even  angels  must  feel  very  much  at 
home.  Where  a  family  is  consecrated  to  God — where  perfect  love 
prevails — where  Jesus  reigns — where  the  Father's  will  is  done  in 
earth  as  it  is  in  heaven,  oh !  surely  there  the  good  angels  must  feel 
at  home. 

How  blessed  is  the  work  of  the  angels  and  the  men  who  arc 
striving  more  and  more  to  make  earth  like  heaven,  so  that  the  deni- 
zens of  the  one  shall  be  the  citizens  of  the  other. 

403 


MEETNESS    FOR    HEAVEN. 

visiting  an  art  gallery  or  conservatory  of  music,  our  enjoy- 
ment  will  be  in  the  ratio  of  the  previous  training  and  develop- 
ment  of  our  tastes  and  sympathies  in  this  direction.  As  those 
entertainments  would  be  to  the  blind  or  deaf,  so  would  the  joys  of 
heaven  be  to  the  sinner.  Place  him  under  the  very  shadow  of  the 
tree  of  life,  and  he  would  say,  "  I  don't  want  to  be  here." 

Heaven  must  be  begun  upon  earth.  "We  must  carry  its  bud  in 
our  hearts  here,  or  we  can  never  see  its  full  blossom  hereafter. 
•  Entrance  into  heaven  is  not  the  result  of  a  projectile  force  lifting  as 
into  an  unknown  sphere.  It  is  the  result  of  a  process  begun  in  time. 
The  Church  is  God's  training  school,  where  the  appetites  and  affec- 
tions for  the  joys  of  heaven  are  developed.  Our  great  work  is  not 
merely  to  get  men  into  heaven,  but  to  prepare  them  for  it.  When 
they  are  ready  they  will  be  there  soon  enough. 

Our  characters  are  now  catching  colors  which  will  survive  the 
judgment  day.  What  gigantic  importance  this  gives  to  time  !  As 
we  sit  before  the  artist's  camera  while  our  photograph  is  being 
impressed  upon  the  sensitive  plate,  how  important  it  is  that  we 
maintain  the  right  position.  A  slight  move  will  spoil  the  picture. 
So  during  our  brief  years  on  earth  our  characters  are  impressed  for 
eternity.  Death  will  be  the  artist  closing  the  watch,  and  announc- 
ing the  process  completed,  and  the  impression  then  made  cannot  be 
altered.  The  soldiers  used  to  say  when  a  comrade  fell,  "Poor 
fellow,  he  has  received  his  discharge."  But  death  is  not  a  discharge. 
It  is  only  a  transfer.  It  takes  us  to  the  judgment  seat  and  leaves  us 

404 


FOEETOKENS    OF    HEAVEN. 


as  it  found  us.  The  direction  which  the  main  current  of  our  affec- 
tions and  aspirations  has  taken  upon  earth  will  there  become  fixed. 
Let  us  not  lose  the  opportunities  now  passing  or  we  lose  the  inherit- 
ance. Let  us  not  miss  the  tide  or  it  will  be  forever  too  late. —  United 
Presbyterian. 


FOKETOKENS    OF    HEAVEN. 

S.  W.  Hamilton. 

>ET  the  traveler,  however  remote  his  stray,  find  something  con- 
genial to  his  own  latitude  and  country,  and  the  sense  of  alien- 
ation is  redeemed.  Should  he  unexpectedly  discover  the 
daisy  of  his  native  fields,  or  catch  the  wood-note  that  had  caroled 
from  his  native  groves — should  he  hear  his  mother  tongue — should 
he  enjoy  the  right  and  protection  of  some  institution  at  which  his 
youthful  heart  had  learned  to  boumd — though  the  earth's  diameter 
struck  through  between  his  sojourn  and  his  own  land,  even  that 
sojourn  would  be  less  to  him  than  home.  And  the  Christian  has 
now  much  akin  to  heaven.  His  heart  is  there.  Eternal  life  abides 
in  him.  Now  he  possesses  the  principles  which  heaven  but  matures, 
and  cherishes  the  affections  which  it  but  expands. 


LESSED  are  they  that  are  homesick,  for  they  shall  come  at  iait 
to  the  Father's  house. 

Hewrich  Settings. 
405 


JOYS    OF    HEAVEK 

Nanoy  A.  W.  Pneit 

these  chilling  winds  and  gloomy  skies, 
M)        Beyond  Death's  cloudy  portal — 
**^      There  is  a  land  where  beauty  never  dies, 
And  love  becomes  immortal. 

A  land  whose  light  is  never  dimmed  by  shade, 

Whose  fields  are  ever  vernal, 
Where  nothing  beautiful  can  ever  fade, 

But  blooms  for  aye  eternal. 

We  may  not  know  how  sweet  its  balmy  air, 

How  bright  and  fair  its  flowers  ; 
We  may  not  hear  the  songs  that  echo  there, 

Through  those  enchanted  bowers. 

The  city's  shining  towers  we  may  not  see, 

With  our  dim  earthly  vision : 
For  Death,  the  silent  warder,  keeps  the  key 

That  opes  those  gates  elysian. 

But  sometimes,  where  adown  the  western  sky 

The  fiery  sunset  lingers, 
Ite  golden  gates  swing  inward  noiselessly, 

Unlocked  by  silent  fingers. 

And  while  they  stand  a  moment  half  ajar, 
Gleams  from  the  inner  glory, 

406 


UNVEILED    HEAVEN. 

Stream  lightly  through  the  azure  vault  afar, 
And  half  reveal  the  story. 

O  land  unknown !  O  land  of  love  divine ! 

Father  all-wise,  eternal, 
Guide,  guide,  these  wandering,  way-worn  feet  of  mine, 

Unto  those  pastures  vernal. 


UNVEILED    HEAVEN. 

Ernst  Lange,  D.D. 
HAT  no  human  eye  hath  seen,  what  no  mortal  ear  hath 

heard, 
What  on  thought  hath  never  been,  in  its  noblest  flights, 

conferred — 

This  hath  God  prepared  in  store 
For  His  people  evermore ! 

When  the  shaded  pilgrim-land  fades  before  the  closing  eye, 
Then  revealed  on  ether,  heaven's  own  scenery  shall  lie ; 

Then  the  veil  of  flesh  shall  fall, 

Now  concealing,  darkening  all. 

When  this  aching  head  shall  rest,  all  its  busy  pulses  o'er, 
From  her  mortal  robes  undrest,  shall  my  spirit  upward  soar, 

Then  shall  nnimagined  joy 

All  my  thoughts  and  powers  employ. 


is  the  heaven  our  God  bestows? 
No  prophet  yet,  no  angel  knows. 

John  Kebl«. 
407 


IMMORTALITY. 

Oeorga  D.  Prentfo. 

cannot  be  that  earth  is  man's  only  abiding  place.  It  cannot 
be  that  our  life  is  a  bubble,  cast  up  by  the  ocean  of  eternity | 
to  float  another  moment  upon  its  surface,  and  then  sink  into 
nothingness  and  darkness  forever.  Else  why  is  it  that  the  high  and 
glorious  aspirations  which  leap  like  angels  from  the  temples  of  our 
hearts,  are  forever  wandering  abroad,  satisfied  ? 

Why  is  it  that  the  rainbow  and  the  cloud  come  over  us  with  a 
beauty  that  is  not  of  earth,  and  then  pass  off  and  leave  us  to  muse 
on  their  faded  loveliness  ? 

Why  is  it  that  the  stars  which  hold  their  festival  around  the 
midnight  throne  are  set  above  the  grasp  of  our  limited  faculties,  and 
are  forever  mocking  us  with  their  unapproachable  glory  ? 

Finally,  why  is  it  that  bright  forms  of  human  beauty  are  pre- 
sented to  the  view,  and  then  taken  from  us,  leaving  the  thousand 
streams  of  the  affections  to  flow  back  in  an  Alpine  torrent  upon  our 
hearts  ? 

We  are  born  for  a  higher  destiny  than  that  of  earth.  There  is  a 
realm  where  the  rainbow  never  fades;  where  the  stars  will  be 
spread  out  before  us  like  the  islands  that  slumber  on  the  ocean ; 
and  where  the  beautiful  beings  that  here  pass  before  us  like  visions 
will  stay  in  our  presence  forever  1 


RELIGION  is  the  best  armor  a  man  can  have,  but  the  worst  cloak. 

408 


TIME    AND    ETERNITY. 

Bbrativ*  Bono*. 

51 T  is  not  Time  that  flies ; 
jlp        "Pis  we,  'tis  we  are  flying : 
*®    It  is  not  Life  that  dies ; 

'Tis  we,  'tis  we  are  dying. 
Time  and  Eternity  are  one ; 
Time  is  Eternity  begun ; 
Life  changes,  yet  without  decay ; 
'Tis  we  alone  who  pass  away. 

It  is  not  Truth  that  flies ; 

'Tis  we,  'tis  we  are  flying: 
It  is  not  Faith  that  dies ; 

'Tis  we,  'tis  we  are  dying. 
O  ever-during  faith  and  truth, 
Whose  youth  is  age,  whose  age  is  youth ! 
Twin  stars  of  immortality, 
Ye  cannot  perish  from  our  sky. 

It  is  not  Hope  that  flies  ; 

'Tis  we,  'tis  we  are  flying ; 
It  is  not  Love  that  dies ; 
'Tis  we,  'tis  we  are  dying. 
Twin  streams,  that  have  in  heaven  your  birth, 
Ye  glide  in  gentle  joy  through  earth, 
We  fade,  like  flowers  beside  yon  sown ; 
Ye  are  still  flowing,  flowing  on. 

409 


WO    NIGHT    IN    HEAVEN. 

Yet  we  do  but  die  to  live ; 

It  is  from  death  we're  flying ; 
Forever  lives  our  Life ; 

For  us  there  is  no  dying. 
We  die  but  as  the  Spring-bud  dies, 
In  Summer's  golden  glow  to  rise. 
These  be  our  days  of  April  bloom; 
Our  Summer  is  beyond  the  tomb. 


NO    NIGHT    IN    HEAVEN. 

O  night  shall  be  in  heaven ;  no  gathering  gloom 
Shall  o'er  that  glorious  landscape  ever  come ; 
No  tears  shall  fall  in  sadness  o'er  those  flowers 
That  breathe  their  fragrance  through  celestial  bowers- 
No  night  shall  be  in  heaven ;  forbid  to  sleep, 
These  eyes  no  more  their  mournful  vigils  keep ; 
Their  fountains  dried,  their  tears  all  wiped  away, 
They  gaze  undazzled  on  eternal  day. 

No  night  shall  be  in  heaven ;  no  sorrow  reign, 
No  secret  anguish,  no  corporeal  pain, 
No  shivering  limbs,  no  burning  fever  there, 
No  soul's  eclipse,  no  winter  of  despair. 

No  night  shall  be  in  heaven,  but  endless  noon ; 
No  fast  declining  sun,  no  waning  moon ; 
But  there  the  Lamb  shall  yield  perpetual  light 
'Mid  pastures  green  and  waters  ever  bright 

410 


NO    SORROW    THERE. 

No  night  shall  be  in  heaven ;  no  darkened  room, 
No  bed  of  death,  nor  silence  of  the  tomb, 
But  breezes  ever  fresh  with  love  and  truth 
Shall  brace  the  frame  with  an  immortal  youth. 

No  night  shall  be  in  heaven,  but  night  is  here, 
The  night  of  sorrow,  and  the  night  of  fear ; 
I  mourn  the  ills  that  now  my  steps  attend, 
And  shrink  from  others  that  may  yet  impend. 

No  night  shall  be  in  heaven.     Oh,  had  I  faith, 

To  rest  in  what  the  faithful  witness  saith, 

That  faith  should  make  these  hideous  phantoms  flee, 

And  leave  no  night  henceforth  on  earth  to  me. — Anonymous. 


NO    SORROW    THERE. 

Daniel  March,  D.D. 

>HIS  earthly  life  has  been  fitly  characterized  as  a  pilgrimage 
through  a  vale  of  tears.  In  the  language  of  poetry,  man 
himself  has  been  called  a  pendulum  betwixt  a  smile  and  a 
tear.  Everything  in  this  world  is  characterized  by  imperfection. 
The  best  people  have  many  faults.  The  clearest  mind  only  sees 
through  a  glass  darkly.  The  purest  heart  is  not  without  spot.  All 
the  intercourse  of  society,  all  the  transactions  of  business,  all  our 
estimates  of  human  conduct  and  motive  must  be  based  upon  the 
sad  assumption  that  we  cannot  wholly  trust  either  ourselves  or  our 
fellow-men.  Every  heart  has  its  grief,  every  house  has  its  skeleton, 
every  character  is  marred  with  weakness  and  imperfection.  And  all 
these  aimless  conflicts  of  our  minds,  and  unanswered  longings  of  our 
hearts  should  lead  us  to  rejoice  the  more  in  the  divine  assurance  that 
a  time  is  coming  when  night  shall  melt  into  noon,  and  the  mystery 
fthall  be  clothed  with  glory. 

411 


FAREWELL    LIFE,    WELCOME    LIFE. 

ThomatHood, 

^AKEWELL,  life  1    My  senses  swiin, 
And  the  world  is  growing  Him  ; 
Thronging  shadows  crowd  the  light, 

Like  the  advent  of  the  night ; 

Colder,  colder,  colder  still, 

Upward  steals  a  vapor  chill ; 

Strong  the  earthly  odor  grows — 

I  smell  the  mould  above  the  rose  ! 

Welcome,  life  !     The  spirit  strives  I 
Strength  returns,  and  hope  revives  I 
Cloudy  fears  and  shapes  forlorn 
Fly  like  shadows  at  the  morn : 
O'er  the  earth  there  comes  a  bloom, 
Sunny  light  for  sullen  gloom, 
Warm  perfume  for  vapor  cold — 
I  smell  the  rose  above  the  mould  I 


THE    END. 

[AVE  you,  my  dear  reader,  thought  seriously  of  the  endf  the 
end  of  this  day,  the  end  of  this  month,  the  end  of  this  yea/r, 
the  end  of  this  Ufe  f    Indeed,  the  end  of  dU  earthly  things  f 
The  end  is  surely  coming  !    It  may  be  near. 

412  * 


THE    END. 

The  end  wiU  come  soon.  This  life  is  short  and  uncertain  at  the 
best.  A  few  more  rising  and  setting  sons,  and  we  shall  be  gone— 
numbered  with  the  dead. 

The  end  may  come  when  you  a/re  not  looking  for  it.  Long  life, 
many  days  yet,  you  may  be  saying,  "  To-morrow  shall  be  as  this  day 
and  much  more  abundant."  But  God  may  say  to  you,  as  he  did 
to  the  rich  man  of  old,  "  Thou  fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be 
required  of  thee  ;  then  whose  shall  those  things  be  which  thou  hast 
provided  ?" 

The  end  may  come  suddenly,  like  the  flash  of  the  lightning,  or 
stealthily  as  a  thief  m  the  night.  "  For  in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think 
not  the  Son  of  man  cometh." 

The  end  may  come  when  you  are  not  prepared  for  it  —  not  pre- 
pared at  all,  or  poorly  prepared  for  it.  Are  you  prepared  for  it 
now  f  What  assurance  have  you  that  you  would  be  in  the  future  f 

"  Procrastination  is  the  thief  of  time." 

O,  what  shall  the  end  of  all  earthly  things  be  to  you—  to  you  as 
an  individual  ?  Would  sudden  death  be  sudden  glory  ? 

"  And  if  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved,  where  shall  the  ungodly 
and  the  sinner  appear  ?"  "  But  sin,  when  it  is  finished,  brmgeth 
forth  death."  "  For  the  wages  of  sin  is  death  ;  but  the  gift  of  God 
is  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

"  That  awful  day  will  surely  come, 

The  appointed  hour  makes  haste, 
When  I  must  stand  before  my  Judge, 
And  pass  the  solemn  test. 

"  If  now  thou  standest  at  the  door, 

O,  let  me  feel  thee  near; 
And  make  my  peace  with  God,  before 
I  at  thy  bar  appear." 


418 


*  TV    /TAY    tne   blessings   of    thy    God    wait  upon  thee  and 
**•    •*•       the    sun   of   Glory  shine  around  thy    head,   may 
the  gates  of  plenty,  honor,  and  happiness  be  always  open 
to   thee  and  thine. 

,  "May  no  strife  disturb  thy  days,  nor  sorrow  distress 
thy  nights,  and  may  the  pillow  of  Peace  kiss  thy  cheek, 
and  pleasures  of  imagination  attend  thy  dreams ;  and 
when  length  of  years  makes  thee  tired  of  earthly  joys, 
and  the  curtains  of  death  gently  close  round  the  scene 
of  thy  existence,  may  the  angels  of  God  attend  thy  bed, 
and  take  care  that  the  expiring  lamp  of  life  shall  not 
receive  one  rude  blast  to  hasten  its  extinction ;  and,  finally, 
may  the  SAVIOUR'S  blood  wash  thee  from  all  impurities 
and  prepare  thee  to  enter  into  the  land  of  everlasting 

FELICITY." 


414 


/'  0    • 
I       I   g/ 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


A    000  035  692    3 


-surrey 


